YOU?  " 


"WATER!"   HB   GASPED. 

P*ae  20. 


BRAND  BLOTTERS 


BY 

WILLIAM  MACLEOD  RAINE 


AUTHOR  OF 

WYOMING,    BUCKY   |  O'CONNOR,     MAVERICKS, 

A    TEXAS    RANGER,    RIDGWAY    OF 

MONTANA,    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

CLARENCE    ROWE 


GROSS  ET  &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 

Made  in  toe  Uuucd  Sutea  of  America 


Copyright,  1909,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  Co. 
Copyright,  191 1,  by  STREET  &  SMITH 

COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


Brand  Blotter* 


TO 

FRANK  N.  SPINDLER 

In  Memory  of  Certain  Sunday  Afternoon  Tramps 

Long  Ago,  During  Which  We  Solved  the 

Problems  of  the  Nation 


912939 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 
MELISSY  OF  THE  BAR   DOUBLE  G 

CHAPTER  PAGE. 

I.  A  CROSSED  TRAIL n 

II.  BRAND  BLOTTING 18 

III.  AN  ACCUSATION 35 

IV.  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CHIHUAHUA  HAT     ....  49 
V.  THE  TENDERFOOT  TAKES  UP  A  CLAIM     .    .    .    .  61 

VI.     "HANDS  UP!" 75 

VII.    WATERING  SHEEP 98 

VIII.  THE  BOONE-BELLAMY  FEUD  is  RENEWED     ...  109 

IX.    THE  DANGER  LINE 121 

X.  JACK  GOES  TO  THE  HEAD  OF  THE  CLASS   .    .    .    .141 

XI.    A  CONVERSATION 156 

XII.  THE  TENDERFOOT  MAKES  A  PROPOSITION     .    .    .163 

XIII.    OLD  ACQUAINTANCES 182 

XIV.  CONCERNING  THE  BOONE-BELLAMY- YARNELL  FEUD  191 

v 


yi  CONTENTS 

PART  II 
DEAD  MAN'S  CACHE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  KIDNAPPED    .,*.......*...  199 

II.  A  CAPTURE 209 

III.  THE  TABLES  TURNED 217 

IV.  THE  REAL  BUCKY  AND  THE  FALSE      .    .    .    .    .231 
V.  A  PHOTOGRAPH *    .    .    .    .  243 

VI.  IN  DEAD  MAN'S  CACHE 255 

VII.  "TRAPPED!" 266 

VIII.  AN  ESCAPE  AND  A  CAPTURE 276 

IX.  A  BARGAIN 286 

X.  THE  PRICE 300 

XI.  SQUIRE  LATIMER  TAKES  A  HAND 305 

XII.  THE  TAKING  OF  THE  CACHE  ........  321 

XIII.  MELISSY  ENTERTAINS 333 

XIV.  BLACK  MACQUEEN  CASHES  HIS  CHECKS  ....  339 


PART    I 
MELISSY  OF  THE  BAR  DOUBLE  G 


CHAPTER   I 

A   CROSSED  TRAIL 

THE  tenderfoot  rose   from  the  ledge  upon 
which   he  had   been   lying  and   stretched 
himself  stiffly.    The  chill  of  the  long  night 
had  set  him  shivering.     His  bones  ached  from  the 
pressure  of  his  body  upon  the  rock  where  he  had 
slept  and  waked  and  dozed  again  with  troubled 
dreams.     The  sharpness  of  his  hunger  made  him 
light-headed.       Thirst  tortured  him.      His  throat 
was  a  lime-kiln,  his  tongue  swollen  till  it  filled  his 
mouth. 

If  the  night  had  been  bad,  he  knew  the  day  would 
be  a  hundred  times  worse.  Already  a  gray  light 
was  sifting  into  the  hollow  of  the  sky.  The  vague 
misty  outlines  of  the  mountains  were  growing 
sharper.  Soon  from  a  crotch  of  them  would  rise 
a  red  hot  cannon  ball  to  pour  its  heat  into  the 
parched  desert. 

He  was  headed  for  the  Sonora  line,  for  the  hills 
where  he  had  heard  a  man  might  drop  out  of  sight 
of  the  civilization  that  had  once  known  him.  There 
were  reasons  why  he  had  started  in  a  hurry,  with- 

11 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


out  -a  horse  or  food  or  a  canteen,  and  these  same 
reasons  held  good  why  he  could  not  follow  beaten 
tracks.  All  yesterday  he  had  traveled  without 
sighting  a  ranch  or  meeting  a  human  being.  But 
he  knew  he  must  get  to  water  soon  —  if  he  were 
to  reach  it  at  all. 

A  light  breeze  was  stirring,  and  on  it  there  was 
borne  to  him  a  faint  rumble  as  of  thunder.  In 
stantly  the  man  came  to  a  rigid  alertness.  Thun 
der  might  mean  rain,  and  rain  would  be  salvation. 
But  the  sound  did  not  die  away.  Instead,  it  deep 
ened  to  a  steady  roar,  growing  every  instant  louder. 
His  startled  glance  swept  the  canon  that  drove  like 
a  sword  cleft  into  the  hills.  Pouring  down  it,  with 
the  rush  of  a  tidal  wave,  came  a  wall  of  cattle,  a 
thousand  backs  tossing  up  and  down  as  the  swell 
of  a  troubled  sea.  Though  he  had  never  seen  one 
before,  the  man  on  the  lip  of  the  gulch  knew  that 
he  was  watching  a  cattle  stampede.  Under  the  im 
pact  of  the  galloping  hoofs  the  ground  upon  which 
he  stood  quaked. 

A  cry  diverted  his  attention.  From  the  bed  of 
the  sandy  wash  a  man  had  started  up  and  was  run 
ning  for  his  life  toward  the  canon  walls.  Before 
he  had  taken  half  a  dozen  steps  the  avalanche  was 
upon  him,  had  cut  him  down,  swept  over  him. 

The  thud  of  the  hoofs  died  away.  Into  the  open 
desert  the  stampede  had  passed.  A  huddled  mass 
lay  motionless  on  the  sand  in  the  track  of  the  ava 
lanche. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  13 

A  long  ragged  breath  whistled  through  the  closed 
lips  of  the  tenderfoot.  He  ran  along  the  edge  of 
the  rock  wall  till  he  found  a  descent  less  sharp, 
lowered  himself  by  means  of  jutting  quartz  and 
mesquit  cropping  out  from  the  crevices,  and  so 
came  through  a  little  draw  to  the  canon. 

He  dropped  on  a  knee  beside  the  sprawling,  hud 
dled  figure.  No  second  glance  was  needed  to  see 
that  the  man  was  dead.  Life  had  been  trampled 
out  of  him  almost  instantly  and  his  features  bat 
tered  beyond  any  possible  recognition.  Unused  to 
scenes  of  violence,  the  stranger  stooping  over  him 
felt  suddenly  sick.  It  made  him  shudder  to  re 
member  that  if  he  could  have  found  a  way  down 
in  the  darkness  he,  too,  would  have  slept  in  the 
warm  sand  of  the  dry  wash.  If  he  had,  the  fate 
of  this  man  would  have  been  his. 

Under  the  doubled  body  was  a  canteen.  The 
trembling  fingers  of  the  tenderfoot  unscrewed  the 
cork.  Tipping  the  vessel,  he  drank  avidly.  One 
swallow,  a  second,  then  a  few  trickling  drops.  The 
canteen  had  been  almost  empty. 

Uncovering,  he  stood  bareheaded  before  the  in 
ert  body  and  spoke  gently  in  the  low,  soft  voice 
one  instinctively  uses  in  the  presence  of  the  dead. 

"Friend,  I  couldn't  save  your  life,  but  your  water 
has  saved  mine,  I  reckon.  Anyhow,  it  gives  me 
another  chance  to  fight  for  it.  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  for  you  .  .  .  carry  a  message  to 
your  folks  and  tell  them  how  it  happened." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


He  dropped  down  again  beside  the  dead  man  and 
rifled  the  pockets.  In  them  he  found  two  letters 
addressed  in  an  illiterate  hand  to  James  Diller, 
Cananea,  Sonora,  Mexico.  An  idea  flashed  into  his 
brain  and  for  a  moment  held  him  motionless  while 
he  worked  it  out.  Why  not?  This  man  was  about 
his  size,  dressed  much  like  him,  and  so  mutilated 
that  identification  was  impossible. 

From  his  own  pocket  he  took  a  leather  bill  book 
and  a  monogrammed  cigarcase.  With  a  sharp  stone 
he  scarred  the  former.  The  metal  case  he  crushed 
out  of  shape  beneath  the  heel  of  his  boot.  Having 
first  taken  one  twenty  dollar  yellowback  from  the 
well-padded  book,  he  slipped  it  and  the  cigarcase 
into  the  inner  coat  pocket  of  the  dead  man.  Irregu 
larly  in  a  dozen  places  he  gashed  with  his  knife 
the  derby  hat  he  was  wearing,  ripped  the  band  hali 
loose,  dragged  it  in  the  dust,  and  jumped  on  it  till 
the  hat  was  flat  as  a  pancake.  Finally  he  kicked 
it  into  the  sand  a  dozen  yards  away. 

"The  cattle  would  get  it  tangled  in  their  hoofs 
and  drag  it  that  far  with  them/'  he  surmised. 

The  soft  gray  hat  of  the  dead  man  he  himseli 
appropriated.  Again  he  spoke  to  the  lifeless  body, 
lowering  his  voice  to  a  murmur. 

"I  reckon  you  wouldn't  grudge  me  this  if  yot 
knew.  I'm  up  against  it.  If  I  get  out  of  these 
hills  alive  I'll  be  lucky.  But  if  I  do  —  well,  it  won'1 
do  you  any  harm  to  be  mistaken  for  me,  and  il 
will  accommodate  me  mightily.  I  hate  to  leave  you 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 15 

here  alone,  but  it's  what  I've  got  to  do  to  save  my 
self." 

He  turned  away  and  plodded  up  the  dry  creek 
bed. 


The  sun  was  at  the  meridian  when  three  heavily 
armed  riders  drew  up  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon. 
They  fell  into  the  restful,  negligent  postures  of 
horsemen  accustomed  to  take  their  ease  in  the 
saddle. 

"Do  you  figure  maybe  he's  working  up  to  the 
headwaters  of  Dry  Sandy?"  one  suggested. 

A  squat,  bandy-legged  man  with  a  face  of  tanned 
leather  presently  answered.  "No,  Tim,  I  expect  not. 
The  way  I  size  him  up  Mr.  Richard  Bellamy 
wouldn't  know  Dry  Sandy  from  an  irrigation  ditch. 
Mr.  R.  B.  hopes  he's  hittin'  the  high  spots  for 
Sonora,  but  he  ain't  anyways  sure.  Right  about 
now  he's  ridin'  the  grub  line,  unless  he's  made  a 
strike  somewhere." 

The  third  member  of  the  party,  a  lean,  wide- 
shouldered,  sinewy  youth,  blue  silk  kerchief  knotted 
loosely  around  his  neck,  broke  in  with  a  gesture 
that  swept  the  sky.  "Funny  about  all  them  buz 
zards.  What  are  they  doing  here,  sheriff?" 

The  squat  man  opened  his  mouth  to  answer,  but 
Tim  took  the  word  out  of  his  mouth. 

"Look!"  His  arm  had  shot  straight  out  toward 
the  canon.  A  coyote  was  disappearing  on  the  lope. 


/ 

16  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Something  lying  there  in  the  wash  at  the  bend, 
Burke." 

Sheriff  Burke  slid  his  rifle  from  its  scabbard. 
"We'll  not  take  any  chances,  boys.  Spread  out  far 
as  you  can.  Tim,  ride  close  to  the  left  wall.  You 
keep  along  the  right  one,  Flatray.  Me,  I'll  take  the 
center.  That's  right" 

They  rode  forward  cautiously.  Once  Flatray 
spoke. 

"By  the  tracks  there  has  been  a  lot  of  cattle  down 
here  on  the  jump  recently." 

"That's  what,"  Tim  agreed. 

Flatray  swung  from  his  saddle  and  stooped  over 
the  body  lying  at  the  bend  of  the  wash. 

"Crushed  to  death  in  a  cattle  stampede,  looks 
like,"  he  called  to  the  sheriff. 

"Search  him,  Jack,"  the  sheriff  ordered. 

The  young  man  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
He  was  standing  with  a  cigarcase  in  one  hand  and 
a  billbook  in  the  other.  "It's  the  man  we're  after 
—it's  Bellamy." 

Burke  left  his  horse  and  came  forward.  "How 
do  you  know?" 

"Initials  on  the  cigarcase,  R.  B.  Same  mono 
gram  on  the  billbook." 

The  sheriff  had  stooped  to  pick  up  a  battered  hat 
as  he  moved  toward  the  deputy.  Now  he  showed 
the  initials  stamped  on  the  sweat  band.  "R.  B. 
here,  too." 

"Suit  of  gray  clothes,  derby  hat,  size  and  weight 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  17 

about  medium.  We'll  never  know  about  the  scar 
on  the  eyebrow,  but  I  guess  Mr.  Bellamy  is  identi 
fied  without  that." 

"Must  have  camped  here  last  night  and  while 
he  was  asleep  the  cattle  stampeded  down  the  canon," 
Tim  hazarded. 

"That  guess  is  as  good  as  any.  They  ce'tainly 
stomped  the  life  out  of  him  thorough.  Anyhow, 
Bellamy  has  met  up  with  his  punishment.  We'll 
have  to  pack  the  body  back  to  town,  boys,"  the 
sheriff  told  them. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  party  filed  out  to  the  creo 
sote  flats  and  struck  across  country  toward  Mesa. 
Flatray  was  riding  pillion  behind  Tim.  His  own 
horse  was  being  used  as  a  pack  saddle. 


CHAPTER    II 

BRAND  BLOTTING 

THE  tenderfoot,  slithering  down  a  hillside  of 
shale,  caught  at  a  greasewood  bush  and 
waited.  The  sound  of  a  rifle  shot  had 
•drifted  across  the  ridge  to  him.  Friend  or  foe,  it 
made  no  difference  to  him  now.  He  had  reached 
the  end  of  his  tether,  must  get  to  wate*1  soon  or 
give  up  the  fight. 

No  second  shot  broke  the  stillness.  A-  swift  zig 
zagged  across  the  cattle  trail  he  was  following. 
Out  of  a  blue  sky  the  Arizona  sun  still  beat  down 
upon  a  land  parched  by  aeons  of  drought,  a  land 
still  making  its  brave  show  of  greenness  against  a 
dun  background. 

Arrow  straight  the  man  made  for  the  hill  crest. 
Weak  as  a  starved  puppy,  his  knees  bent  under  him 
as  he  climbed.  Down  and  up  again  a  dozen  times, 
he  pushed  feverishly  forward.  All  day  he  had  been 
seeing  things.  Cool  lakes  had  danced  on  the  hori 
zon  line  before  his  tortured  vision.  Strange  fan 
cies  had  passed  in  and  out  of  his  mind.  He  won 
dered  if  this,  too,  were  a  delusion.  How  long  that 

18 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  19 

stiff  ascent  took  him  he  never  knew,  but  at  last  he 
reached  the  summit  and  crept  over  its  cactus-covered 
shoulder. 

He  looked  into  a  valley  dressed  in  its  young 
spring  garb.  Of  all  deserts  this  is  the  loveliest 
when  the  early  rains  have  given  rebirth  to  the  hope 
that  stirs  within  its  bosom  once  a  year.  But  the 
tenderfoot  saw  nothing  of  its  pathetic  promise,  of 
its  fragile  beauty  so  soon  to  be  blasted.  His  sunken 
eyes  swept  the  scene  and  found  at  first  only  a  desert 
waste  in  which  lay  death. 

"I  lose,"  he  said  to  himself  out  loud. 

With  the  words  he  gave  up  the  long  struggle  and 
sank  to  the  ground.  For  hours  he  had  been  ex 
hausted  to  the  limit  of  endurance,  but  the  will  to 
live  had  kept  him  going.  Now  the  driving  force 
within  had  run  down.  He  would  die  where  he  lay. 

Another  instant,  and  he  was  on  his  feet  again 
eager,  palpitant,  tremulous.  For  plainly  there  had 
come  to  him  the  bleating  of  a  calf. 

Moving  to  the  left,  he  saw  rising  above  the  hill 
brow  a  thin  curl  of  smoke.  A  dozen  staggering 
steps  brought  him  to  the  edge  of  a  draw.  There 
in  the  hollow  below,  almost  within  a  stone's  throw, 
was  a  young  woman  bending  over  a  fire.  He  tried 
to  call,  but  his  swollen  tongue  and  dry  throat  re 
fused  the  service.  Instead,  he  began  to  run  toward 
her. 

Beyond  the  wash  was  a  dead  cow.  Not  far  from 
it  lay  a  calf  on  its  side,  all  four  feet  tied  together. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


From  the  fire  the  young  woman  took  a  red-hot  run 
ning  iron  and  moved  toward  the  little  bleater. 

The  crackling  of  a  twig  brought  her  around  as 
a  sudden  tight  rein  does  a  high-strung  horse.  The 
man  had  emerged  from  the  prickly  pears  and  was 
close  upon  her.  His  steps  dragged.  The  sag  of 
his  shoulders  indicated  extreme  fatigue.  The  dark 
hollows  beneath  the  eyes  told  of  days  of  torment. 

The  girl  stood  before  him  slender  and  straight. 
She  was  pale  to  the  lips.  Her  breath  came  fast 
and  ragged  as  if  she  had  been  running. 

Abruptly  she  shot  her  challenge  at  him.  "Who 
are  you?" 

"Water/5  he  gasped. 

One  swift,  searching  look  the  girl  gave  him,  then 
"Wait!"  she  ordered,  and  was  off  into  the  mesquit 
on  the  run.  Three  minutes  later  the  tenderfoot 
heard  her  galloping  through  the  brush.  With  a 
quick,  tight  rein  she  drew  up,  swung  from  the  sad 
dle  expertly  as  a  vaquero,  and  began  to  untie  a  can 
teen  held  by  buckskin  thongs  to  the  side  of  the 
saddle. 

He  drank  long,  draining  the  vessel  to  the  last 
drop. 

From  her  saddle  bags  she  brought  two  sand 
wiches  wrapped  in  oiled  paper. 

"You're  hungry,  too,  I  expect,"  she  said,  her  eyes 
shining  with  tender  pity. 

She  observed  that  he  did  not  wolf  his  food,  vora 
cious  though  he  was.  While  he  ate  she  returned 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


to  the  fire  with  th«  running  iron  and  heaped  live 
coals  around  the  end  of  it. 

"You've  had  a  pretty  tough  time  of  it,"  she  called 
across  to  him  gently. 

"It  hasn't  been  exactly  a  picnic,  but  I'm  all  right 
now." 

The  girl  liked  the  way  he  said  it.  Whatever  else 
he  was  —  and  already  faint  doubts  were  beginning 
to  stir  in  her  —  he  was  not  a  quitter. 

"You  were  about  all  in,"  she  said,  watching  him. 

"Just  about  one  little  kick  left  in  me,"  he  smiled. 

"That's  what  I  thought." 

She  busied  herself  over  the  fire  inspecting  the 
iron.  The  man  watched  her  curiously.  What  could 
it  mean?  A  cow  killed  wantonly,  a  calf  bawling 
with  pain  and  fear,  and  this  girl  responsible  for  it. 
The  tenderfoot  could  not  down  the  suspicion  stir 
ring  in  his  mind.  He  knew  little  of  the  cattle  coun 
try.  But  he  had  read  books  and  had  spent  a  week 
in  Mesa  not  entirely  in  vain.  The  dead  cow  with 
the  little  stain  of  red  down  its  nose  pointed  surely 
to  one  thing.  He  was  near  enough  to  see  a  hole 
in  the  forehead  just  above  the  eyes.  Instinctively 
his  gaze  passed  to  the  rifle  lying  in  the  sand  close 
to  his  hand.  Her  back  was  still  turned  to  him.  He 
leaned  over,  drew  the  gun  to  him,  and  threw  out 
an  empty  shell  from  the  barrel. 

At  the  click  of  the  lever  the  girl  swung  around 
upon  him. 

"WTiat  are  you  doing?"  she  demanded. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


He  put  the  rifle  down  hurriedly.  "Just  seeing 
what  make  it  is." 

"And  what  make  is  it?"  she  flashed. 

He  was  trapped.  "I  hadn't  found  out  yet,"  he 
stammered. 

"No,  but  you  found  out  there  was  an  empty  shell 
in  it,"  she  retorted  quickly. 

Their  eyes  fastened.  She  was  gray  as  ashes,  but 
she  did  not  flinch.  By  chance  he  had  stumbled  upon 
the  crime  of  crimes  in  Cattleland,  had  caught  a 
rustler  redhanded  at  work.  Looking  into  the  fine 
face,  nostrils  delicately  fashioned,  eyes  clear  and 
deep,  the  thing  was  scarce  credible  of  her.  Why, 
she  could  not  be  a  day  more  than  twenty,  and  in 
every  line  of  her  was  the  look  of  pride,  of  good 
blood. 

"Yes,  I  happened  to  throw  it  out,"  he  apologized. 

But  she  would  have  no  evasion,  would  not  let  his 
doubts  sleep.  There  was  superb  courage  in  the 
scornful  ferocity  with  which  she  retorted. 

"Happened  !  And  I  suppose  you  happened  to  no 
tice  that  the  brand  on  the  cow  is  a  Bar  Double  G, 
while  that  on  the  calf  is  different." 

"No,  I  haven't  noticed  that." 

"Plenty  of  time  to  see  it  yet."  Then,  with  a 
swift  blaze  of  feeling,  "What's  the  use  of  pretend 
ing?  I  know  what  you  think." 

"Then  you  know  more  than  I  do.  My  thoughts 
don't  go  any  farther  than  this,  that  you  have  saved 
my  life  and  I'm  grateful  for  it. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"I  know  better.  You  think  I'm  a  rustler.  But 
don't  say  it.  Don't  you  dare  say  it." 

Brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  semi-barbaric 
traditions,  silken-strong,  with  instincts  unwarped 
by  social  pressure,  she  was  what  the  sun  and  wind 
and  freedom  of  Arizona  had  made  her,  a  poetic 
creation  far  from  commonplace.  So  he  judged  her, 
and  in  spite  of  the  dastardly  thing  she  had  done  he 
sensed  an  innate  refinement  strangely  at  variance 
with  the  circumstances. 

"All  right.  I  won't,"  he  answered,  with  a  faint 
smite. 

"Now  you've  got  to  pay  for  your  sandwiches  by 
making  yourself  useful.  I'm  going  to  finish  this 
job."  She  said  it  with  an  edge  of  self-scorn.  He 
guessed  her  furious  with  self-contempt. 

Under  her  directions  he  knelt  on  the  calf  so  as 
to  hold  it  steady  while  she  plied  the  hot  iron.  The 
odor  of  burnt  hair  and  flesh  was  already  acrid  in 
his  nostrils.  Upon  the  red  flank  F  was  written  in 
raw,  seared  flesh.  He  judged  that  the  brand  she 
wanted  was  not  yet  complete.  Probably  the  iron 
had  got  too  cold  to  finish  the  work,  and  she  had 
been  forced  to  reheat  it. 

The  little  hand  that  held  the  running  iron  was 
trembling.  Looking  up,  the  tenderfoot  saw  that  she 
was  white  enough  to  faint. 

"I  can't  do  it.  You'll  have  to  let  me  hold  him 
while  you  blur  the  brand,"  she  told  him. 

They  changed  places.    She  set  her  teeth  to  it  and 


24 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

held  the  calf  steady,  but  the  brander  noticed  that 
she  had  to  look  away  when  the  redhot  iron  came 
near  the  flesh  of  the  victim. 

"Blur  the  brand  right  out.  Do  it  quick,  please," 
she  urged. 

A  sizzle  of  burning  skin,  a  piteous  wail  from  the 
tortured  animal,  an  acrid  pungent  odor,  and  the 
thing  was  done.  The  girl  got  to  her  feet,  quiver 
ing  like  an  aspen. 

"Have  you  a  knife?"  she  asked  faintly. 

"Yes." 

"Cut  the  rope." 

The  calf  staggered  to  all  fours,  shook  itself  to 
gether,  and  went  bawling  to  the  dead  mother. 

The  girl  drew  a  deep  breath.  "They  say  it  does 
not  hurt  except  while  it  is  being  done." 

His  bleak  eyes  met  hers  stonily.  "And  of  course 
it  will  soon  get  used  to  doing  without  its  mother. 
That  is  a  mere  detail." 

A  shudder  went  through  her. 

The  whole  thing  was  incomprehensible  to  him. 
Why  under  heaven  had  she  done  it?  How  could 
one  so  sensitive  have  done  a  wanton  cruel  thing 
like  this?  Her  reason  he  could  not  fathom.  The 
facts  that  confronted  him  were  that  she  had  done  it, 
and  had  meant  to  carry  the  crime  through.  Only 
detection  had  changed  her  purpose. 

She  turned  upon  him,  plainly  sick  of  the  whole 
business.  "Let's  get  away  from  here.  Where's 
your  horse?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  25 

"I  haven't  any.     I  started  on  foot  and  got  lost." 

"From  where?" 

"From  Mammoth." 

Sharply  her  keen  eyes  fixed  him.  How  could  a 
man  have  got  lost  near  Mammoth  and  Wandered 
here?  He  would  have  had  to  cross  the  range,  and 
even  a  child  would  have  known  enough  to  turn  back 
into  the  valley  where  the  town  lay. 

"How  long  ago?" 

"Day  before  yesterday."  He  added  after  a  mo 
ment  :  "I  was  looking  for  a  job." 

She  took  in  the  soft  hands  and  the  unweathered 
skin  of  the  dark  face.  "What  sort  of  a  job?" 

"Anything  I  can  do." 

"But  what  can  you  do?" 

"I  can  ride." 

She  must  take  him  home  with  her,  of  course, 
and  feed  and  rest  him.  That  went  without  saying. 
But  what  after  that?  He  knew  too  much  to  be 
turned  adrift  with  the  story  of  what  he  had  seen. 
If  she  could  get  a  hold  on  him — whether  of  fear 
or  of  gratitude — so  as  to  insure  his  silence,  the 
truth  might  yet  be  kept  quiet  At  least  she  could 
try. 

"Did  you  ever  ride  the  ranger*' 

"No." 

"What  sort  of  work  have  you  done  ?" 

After  a  scarcely  noticeable  pause,  "Clerical 
work,"  he  answered. 


26  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"You're  from  the  East?"  she  suggested,  her  eyes 


narrowing 

"Yes." 
n 


My  name  is  Melissy  Lee,"  she  told  him,  watch 
ing  him  very  steadily. 

Once  more  the  least  of  pauses.  "Mine  is  Billet 
—James  Diller." 

"That's  funny.  I  know  another  man  of  that 
name.  At  least,  I  know  him  by  sight." 

The  man  who  had  called  himself  Diller  grew 
wary.  "It's  a  common  enough  name." 

"Yes.  If  I  find  you  work  at  my  father's  ranch 
would  you  be  too  particular  about  what  it  is?" 

"Try  me." 

"And  your  memory — is  it  inconveniently  good?" 
Her  glance  swept  as  by  chance  over  the  scene  of 
her  recent  operations. 

"I've  got  a  right  good  forgettery,  too,"  he  as 
sured  her. 

"You're  not  in  the  habit  of  talking  much  about 
the  things  you  see."  She  put  it  in  the  form  of  a 
statement,  but  the  rising  inflection  indicated  the  in 
terrogative. 

His  black  eyes  met  hers  steadily.  "I  can  padlock 
my  mouth  when  it  is  necessary,"  he  answered,  the 
suggestion  of  a  Southern  drawl  in  his  intonation. 

She  wanted  an  assurance  more  direct.  "When 
you  think  it  necessary,  I  suppose." 

"That  is  what  I  meant  to  say." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  27 

"Come.  One  good  turn  deserves  another.  What 
about  this?"  She  nodded  toward  the  dead  cow. 

"I  have  not  seen  a  thing  I  ought  not  to  have 
seen." 

"Didn't  you  see  me  blot  a  brand  on  that  calf?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "Can't  recall  it  at  all,  Miss 
Lee." 

Swiftly  her  keen  glance  raked  him  again.  Judged 
by  his  clothes,  he  was  one  of  the  world's  ineffectives, 
flotsam  tossed  into  the  desert  by  the  wash  of  fate; 
but  there  was  that  in  the  steadiness  of  his  eye,  in 
the  set  of  his  shoulders,  in  the  carriage  of  his  lean- 
loined,  slim  body  that  spoke  of  breeding.  He  was 
no  booze-fighting  grubliner.  Disguised  though  he 
was  in  cheap  slops,  she  judged  him  a  man  of  parts. 
He  would  do  to  trust,  especially  since  she  could  not 
help  herself. 

"We'll  be  going.  You  take  my  horse,"  she 
ordered. 

"And  let  you  walk?" 

"How  long  since  you  have  eaten?"  she  asked 
brusquely. 

"About  seven  minutes,"  he  smiled. 

"But  before  that?" 

"Two  days." 

"Well,  then.  Anybody  can  see  you're  as  weak 
as  a  kitten.  Do  as  I  say." 

"Why  can't  we  both  ride?" 

"We  can  as  soon  as  we  get  across  tht  pass.  Un 
til  then  I'll  walk." 


28  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Erect  as  a  willow  sapling,  she  took  the  hills  with 
an  elastic  ease  that  showed  her  deep-bosomed  in 
spite  of  her  slenderness.  The  short  corduroy  rid 
ing  skirt  and  high-laced  boots  were  made  for  use, 
not  grace,  but  the  man  in  the  saddle  found  even 
in  her  manner  of  walking  the  charm  of  her  direct, 
young  courage.  Free  of  limb,  as  yet  unconscious 
of  sex,  she  had  the  look  of  a  splendid  boy.  The 
descending  sun  was  in  her  sparkling  hair,  on  the 
lank,  undulating  grace  of  her  changing  lines. 

Active  as  a  cat  though  it  was,  the  cowpony  found 
the  steep  pass  with  its  loose  rubble  hard  going.  Me- 
lissy  took  the  climb  much  easier.  In  the  way  she 
sped  through  the  mesquit,  evading  the  clutch  of  the 
cholla  by  supple  dips  to  right  and  left,  there  was  a 
kind  of  pantherine  litheness. 

At  the  summit  she  waited  for  the  horse  to  clam 
ber  up  the  shale  after  her. 

"Get  down  in  your  collar,  you  Buckskin/'  she 
urged,  and  when  the  pony  was  again  beside  her 
petted  the  animal  with  little  love  pats  on  the  nose. 

Carelessly  she  flung  at  Diller  a  question.  "From 
what  part  of  the  East  did  you  say?" 

He  was  on  the  spot  promptly  this  time.  "From 
Keokuk." 

"Keokuk,  Indiana  ?" 

"Iowa,"  he  smiled. 

"Oh,  is  it  Iowa?"  He  had  sidestepped  her  little 
trap,  but  she  did  not  give  up.  "Just  arrived  ?" 

"I've  been  herding  sheep  for  a  month." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  29 

"Oh,  sheepherding !"  Her  disdain  implied  that 
if  he  were  fit  for  nothing  better  than  sheepherding, 
the  West  could  find  precious  little  use  for  him. 

"It  was  all  I  could  get  to  do." 

"Where  did  you  say  you  wrangled  Mary's  little 
lamb?" 

"In  the  Catalinas." 

"Whose  outfit  ?' 

Question  and  answer  were  tossed  back  and  forth 
lightly,  but  both  were  watching  warily. 

"Outfit  ?"  he  repeated,  puzzled. 

"Yes.     Wrho  were  you  working  for?" 

"Don't  remember  his  name.    He  was  a  Mexican." 

"Must  have  been  one  of  the  camps  of  Antonio 
Valdez." 

"Yes,  that's  it.     That's  the  name." 

"Only  he  runs  his  sheep  in  the  Galiuros,"  she 
demurred. 

"Is  it  the  Galiuros?  Those  Spanish  names!  I 
can't  keep  them  apart  in  my  mind." 

She  laughed  with  hard,  young  cruelty.  "It  is 
hard  to  remember  what  you  never  heard,  isn't  it?" 

The  man  was  on  the  rack.  Tiny  beads  of  per 
spiration  stood  out  on  his  forehead.  But  he  got 
a  lip  smile  into  working  order. 

"Just  what  do  you  mean,  Miss  Lee?" 

"You  had  better  get  your  story  more  pat.  I've 
punched  a  dozen  holes  in  it  already.  First  you  tell 
me  you  are  from  the  East,  and  even  while  you  were 
telling  me  I  knew  you  were  a  Southerner  from  the 


30 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

drawl.  No  man  ever  got  lost  from  Mammoth. 
You  gave  a  false  name.  You  said  you  had  been 
herding  sheep,  but  you  didn't  know  what  an  outfit 
is.  You  wobbled  between  the  Galiuros  and  the 
Catalinas." 

"I'm  not  a  native.  I  told  you  I  couldn't  remem 
ber  Spanish  names." 

"It  wasn't  necessary  to  tell  me,"  she  countered 
quickly.  "A  man  that  can't  recall  even  the  name 
of  his  boss!" 

•"I'm  not  in  the  witness  box,  Miss  Lee,"  he  told 
her  stiffly. 

"Not  yet,  but  you're  liable  to  be  soon,  I  reckon." 

"In  a  cattle  rustling  case,  I  suppose  you  mean." 

"No,  I  don't."     She  went  on  with  her  indictment 

of  his  story,  though  his  thrust  had  brought  the  color 

to  her  cheek.    "When  I  offered  you  Antonio  Valdez 

for  an  employer  you  jumped  at  him.     If  you  want 

to  know,  he  happens  to  be  our  herder.     He  doesn't 

own  a  sheep  and  never  will." 

"You  know  all  about  it,"  he  said  with  obvious 
sarcasm. 

"I  know  you're  not  who  you  say  you  are." 
"Perhaps  you  know  who  I  am  then." 
"I  don't  know  or  care.    It's  none  of  my  business. 
But  others  may  think  it  is  theirs.     You  can't  be  so 
reckless  with  the  truth  without  folks  having  notions. 
If  I  were  you  I'd  get  a  story  that  will  hang  to 
gether." 

"You're  such  a  good  detective.     Maybe  I  could 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  31 

get  you  to  invent  one  for  me,"  he  suggested 
maliciously. 

Her  indignation  flashed.  "I'm  no  such  thing. 
But  I'm  not  quite  a  fool.  A  babe  in  arms  wouldn't 
swallow  that  fairy  tale." 

Awkward  as  her  knowledge  might  prove,  he 
could  not  help  admiring  the  resource  and  shrewd 
ness  of  the  girl.  She  had  virtually  served  notice 
that  if  she  had  a  secret  that  needed  keeping  so 
had  he. 

They  looked  down  over  a  desert  green  with  ba- 
jadas,  prickly  pears,  and  mesquit.  To  the  right, 
close  to  a  spur  of  the  hills,  were  the  dwarfed  houses 
of  a  ranch.  The  fans  of  a  windmill  caught  the  sun 
and  flashed  it  back  to  the  travelers. 

"The  Bar  Double  G.  My  father  owns  it,"  Miss 
Lee  explained. 

"Oh!  Your  father  owns  it."  He  reflected  a  mo 
ment  while  he  studied  her.  "Let's  understand  each 
other,  Miss  Lee.  I'm  not  what  I  claim  to  be, 
you  say.  We'll  put  it  that  you  have  guessed  right. 
What  do  you  intend  to  do  about  it?  I'm  walling  to 
be  made  welcome  at  the  Bar  Double  G,  but  I  don't 
want  to  be  too  welcome." 

"I'm  not  going  to  do  anything." 

"So  long  as  I  remember  not  to  remember  what 
I've  seen." 

The  blood  burned  in  her  cheeks  beneath  their 
Arizona  tan.  She  did  not  look  at  him.  "If  you 
like  to  put  it  that  way." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


He  counted  it  to  her  credit  that  she  was  ashamed 
of  the  bargain  in  every  honest  fiber  of  her. 

"No  matter  what  they  say  I've  done.  You'll  keep 
faith?" 

"I  don't  care  what  you've  done,"  she  flung  back 
bitterly.  "It's  none  of  my  affair.  I  told  you  that 
before.  Men  come  out  here  for  all  sorts  of  rea 
sons.  We  don't  ask  for  a  bill  of  particulars." 

"Then  I'll  be  right  glad  to  go  down  to  the  Bar 
Double  G  with  you,  and  say  thanks  for  the  chance," 

He  had  dismounted  when  they  first  reached  the 
pass.  Now  she  swung  to  the  saddle  and  he  climbed 
behind  her.  They  reached  presently  one  of  the 
nomadic  trails  of  the  cattle  country  which  wander 
leisurely  around  hills  and  over  gulches  along  the 
line  of  least  resistance.  This  brought  them  to  a 
main  traveled  road  leading  to  the  ranch. 

They  rode  in  silence  until  the  pasture  fence  wag 
passed. 

"What  am  I  to  tell  them  your  name  is?"  she 
asked  stiffly. 

He  took  his  time  to  answer.  "Tom  Morse  is  a 
good  name,  don't  you  think?  How  would  T.  L. 
Morse  do?" 

She  offered  no  comment,  but  sat  in  front  of  him, 
unresponsive  as  the  sphinx.  The  rigor  of  her  flat 
back  told  him  that,  though  she  might  have  to  keep 
his  shameful  secret  for  the  sake  of  her  own,  he 
could  not  presume  upon  it  the  least  in  the  world. 

Melissy  turned  the  horse  over  to  a  little  Mexican 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  33 

boy  and  they  were  just  mounting  the  steps  of  the 
porch  when  a  young  man  cantered  up  to  the  house. 
Lean  and  muscular  and  sunbaked,  he  looked  out 
of  cool,  gray  eyes  upon  a  man's  world  that  had 
often  put  him  through  the  acid  test.  The  plain, 
cactus-torn  chaps,  flannel  shirt  open  at  the  sinewy 
throat,  dusty,  wide-brimmed  hat,  revolver  peeping 
from  its  leather  pocket  on  the  thigh :  every  detail 
contributed  to  the  impression  of  efficiency  he  created. 
Even  the  one  touch  of  swagger  about  him,  the  blue 
silk  kerchief  knotted  loosely  around  his  neck,  lent 
color  to  his  virile  competency. 

He  dragged  his  horse  to  a  standstill  and  leaped 
off  at  the  same  instant.  "Evenin',  'Lissie." 

She  was  busy  lacing  her  shoe  and  did  not  look 
up.  He  guessed  that  he  was  being  snubbed  and 
into  his  eyes  came  a  gleam  of  fun.  A  day  later 
than  he  had  promised,  Jack  Flatray  was  of  opinion 
that  he  was  being  punished  for  tardiness. 

Casually  he  explained.  "Couldn't  make  it  any 
sooner.  Burke  had  a  hurry-up  job  that  took  us 
into  the  hills.  Fellow  by  the  name  of  Bellamy, 
wanted  for  murder  at  Nemo,  Arkansas,  had  been 
tracked  to  Mesa,  A  message  came  over  the  wires 
to  arrest  him.  When  Burke  sent  me  to  his  room 
he  had  lit  out,  taken  a  swift  hike  into  the  hills. 
Must  a-had  some  warning,  for  he  didn't  even  wait 
for  a  horse." 

The  dilated  eyes  of  the  girl  went  past  the  deputy 
to  the  man  she  had  rescued.  He  was  leaning 


34  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

against  one  of  the  porch  posts,  tense  and  rigid,  on 
his  face  the  look  of  the  hunted  brought  to  bay. 

"And  did  you  find  him?"  she  asked  mechanically 
of  the  deputy. 

"We  found  him.  He  had  been  trampled  to  death 
by  a  cattle  stampede." 

Her  mind  groped  blindly  for  an  explanation. 
Her  woman's  instinct  told  her  that  the  man  pant 
ing  on  the  porch  within  six  feet  of  the  officer  was 
the  criminal  wanted.  There  must  be  a  mistake 
somewhere. 

"Did  you  identify  him?" 

"I  guess  there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  His  papers 
and  belongings  all  showed  he  was  our  man." 

"Oh!"  The  excitement  of  his  news  had  for  a 
moment  thawed  her,  but  a  dignified  aloofness 
showed  again  in  her  manner.  "If  you  want  to  see 
father  you'll  find  him  in  the  corral,  Mr.  Flatray." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I'm  looking  for  him  aw 
ful  hard,"  the  blue  kerchiefed  youth  smiled  genially. 
"Anyway,  I  can  wait  a  few  minutes  if  I  have  to." 

"Yes."  She  turned  away  indifferently.  "I'll 
show  you  your  room,  Mr.  Morse." 

The  deputy  watched  them  disappear  into  the 
house  with  astonishment  printed  on  his  face.  He- 
had  ridden  twenty-seven  miles  to  see  Melissy  Lee 
and  he  had  not  quite  expected  this  sort  of  a  greeting. 

"If  that  don't  beat  the  Dutch.  Looks  like  I'll 
do  my  callin'  on  the  old  man  after  all,  maybe,"  he 
murmured  with  a  grin. 


CHAPTER   III 

AN   ACCUSATION 

THE  rescued  man  ate,  drank,  and  from  sheer 
fatigue  fell  asleep  within  five  minutes  of 
the  time  he  was  shown  his  bedroom. 

Since  he  was  not  of  the  easily  discouraged  kind, 
the  deputy  stayed  to  supper  on  invitation  of  Lee. 
He  sat  opposite  the  daughter  of  his  host,  and  that 
young  woman  treated  him  with  the  most  frigid 
politeness.  The  owner  of  the  Bar  Double  G  was 
quite  unaware  of  any  change  of  temperature.  Jack 
and  his  little  girl  had  always  been  the  best  of  friends. 
So  now  he  discoursed  on  the  price  of  cows,  the 
good  rains,  the  outrages  of  the  rustlers,  and  kin 
dred  topics  without  suspecting  that  the  attention  of 
the  young  man  was  on  more  personal  matters. 

Though  born  in  Arizona,  Melissy  was  of  the 
South.  Due  westward  rolls  the  tide  of  settlement, 
and  Beauchamp  Lee  had  migrated  from  Tennessee 
after  the  war,  following  the  line  of  least  resistance 
to  the  sunburned  territory.  Later  he  had  married 
a  woman  a  good  deal  younger  than  himself.  She 
had  borne  him  two  children,  the  elder  of  whom  was 

35 


86 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

now  a  young  man.  Melissy  was  the  younger,  and 
while  she  was  still  a  babe  in  arms  the  mother  had 
died  of  typhoid  and  left  her  baby  girl  to  grow  up 
as  best  she  might  in  a  land  where  women  were  few 
and  far.  This  tiny  pledge  of  her  mother's  love 
Champ  Lee  had  treasured  as  a  gift  from  Heaven. 
He  had  tended  her  and  nursed  her  through  the  ail 
ments  of  childhood  with  a  devotion  the  most  pure 
of  his  reckless  life.  Given  to  heady  gusts  of  pas 
sion,  there  had  never  been  a  moment  when  his  voice 
had  been  other  than  gentle  and  tender  to  her. 

Inevitably  Melissy  had  become  the  product  of  her 
inheritance  and  her  environment.  If  she  was  the 
heiress  of  Beauchamp  Lee's  courage  and  generosity, 
his  quick  indignation  against  wrong  and  injustice, 
so,  too,  she  was  of  his  passionate  lawlessness. 

After  supper  Melissy  disappeared.  She  wanted 
very  much  to  be  alone  and  have  a  good  cry.  Where 
fore  she  slipped  out  of  the  back  door  and  ran  up 
the  Lone  Tree  trail  in  the  darkness.  Jack  thought 
he  saw  a  white  skirt  fly  a  traitorous  signal,  and  at 
leisure  he  pursued. 

But  Melissy  was  not  aware  of  that.  She  reached 
Lone  Tree  rock  and  slipped  down  from  boulder 
to  boulder  until  she  came  to  the  pine  which  gave 
the  place  its  name.  For  hours  she  had  been  forced 
to  repress  her  emotions,  to  make  necessary  small 
talk,  to  arrange  for  breakfast  and  other  household 
details.  Now  she  was  alone,  and  the  floods  of  her 
bitterness  were  unloosed.  She  broke  down  and 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  37 

wept  passionately,  for  she  was  facing  her  first  great 
disillusionment.  She  had  lost  a  friend,  one  in  whom 
she  had  put  great  faith. 

The  first  gust  of  the  storm  was  past  when  Melissy 
heard  a  step  on  the  rocks  above.  She  knew  intui 
tively  that  Jack  Flatray  had  come  in  search  of  her, 
and  he  was  the  last  man  on  earth  she  wanted  to 
meet  just  now. 

"'Lissie!"  she  heard  him  call  softly;  and  again, 
'"Lissie!" 

Noiselessly  she  got  to  her  feet,  waiting  to  see 
what  he  would  do.  She  knew  he  must  be  standing 
on  the  edge  of  the  great  rock,  so  directly  above  her 
that  if  he  had  kicked  a  pebble  it  would  have  landed 
beside  her.  Presently  he  began  to  clamber  down. 

She  tiptoed  along  the  ledge  and  slipped  into  the 
trough  at  the  farther  end  that  led  to  the  top.  It 
was  a  climb  she  had  taken  several  times,  but  never 
in  the  dark.  The  ascent  was  almost  perpendicular, 
and  it  had  to  be  made  by  clinging  to  projecting 
rocks  and  vegetation.  Moreover,  if  she  were  to  es 
cape  undetected  it  had  to  be  done  in  silence. 

She  was  a  daughter  of  the  hills,  as  surefooted 
as  a  mountain  goat.  Handily  she  went  up,  making 
the  most  of  the  footholds  that  offered.  In  spite 
of  the  best  she  could  do  the  rustling  of  bushes  be 
trayed  her. 

Jack  came  to  the  foot  of  the  trough  and  looked  upi 

"So  you're  there,  are  you?"  he  asked. 

Her  foot  loosened  a  stone  and  sent  it  rolling  down. 


88  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  try  that  at  night, 
'Liss,"  he  advised. 

She  made  sure  of  the  steadiness  of  her  voice  be 
fore  she  answered.  "You  don't  need  to  try  it." 

"I  said  if  I  were  you,  girl." 

"But  you  are  not.  Don't  let  me  detain  you  here, 
Mr.  Flatray,"  she  told  him  in  a  manner  of  icy  pre 
cision. 

The  deputy  began  the  climb  too.  "What's  the 
use  of  being  so  hos-tile,  little  girl?"  he  drawled. 
"Me,  I  came  as  soon  as  I  could,  burning  the  wind, 
too." 

She  set  her  teeth,  determined  to  reach  the  top 
in  time  to  get  away  before  he  could  join  her.  In 
her  eagerness  she  took  a  chance  that  proved  her  un 
doing.  A  rock  gave  beneath  her  foot  and  clattered 
down.  Clinging  by  one  hand  and  foot,  she  felt  her 
body  swing  around.  From  her  throat  a  little  cry 
kaped.  She  knew  herself  slipping. 

"Jack!" 

In  time,  and  just  in  time,  he  reached  her,  braced 
himself,  and  gave  her  his  knee  for  a  foot  rest. 

"All  right?"  he  asked,  and  "All  right!"  she  an 
swered  promptly. 

"We'll  go  back,"  he  told  her. 

She  made  no  protest.  Indeed,  she  displayed  a 
caution  in  lowering  herself  that  surprised  him. 
Every  foothold  she  tested  carefully  with  her  weight. 
Once  she  asked  him  to  place  her  shoe  in  the  crevice 
for  her.  He  had  never  seen  her  take  so  much  time 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  39 

in  making  sure  or  be  so  fussy  about  her  personrl 
safety. 

Safely  on  the  ledge  again,  she  attempted  a  second 
time  to  dismiss  him.  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Flatray. 
I  won't  take  any  more  of  your  time." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  before  he  spoke, 
"You're  mighty  high-heeled,  'Lissie.  You  know 
my  name  ain't  Mr.  Flatray  to  you.  What's  it  all 
about?  I've  told  you  twice  I  couldn't  get  here  any 


sooner." 


She  flamed  out  at  him  in  an  upblaze  of  feminine 
ferocity.  "And  I  tell  you  that  I  don't  care  if  yoin 
had  never  come.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  or  have 
anything  to  do  with  you." 

"Why  not?"  He  asked  it  quietly,  though  he  be 
gan  to  know  that  her  charge  against  him  was  a 
serious  one. 

"Because  I  know  what  you  are  now,  because  you 
have  made  us  believe  in  you  while  all  the  time  you 
were  living  a  lie." 

"Meaning  what?" 

"I  was  gathering  poppies  on  the  other  side  of 
Antelope  Pass  this  afternoon." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  me  being  a  liar 
and  a  scoundrel,"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"Oh,  you  pretend,"  she  scoffed.  "But  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't.    Let's  have  the  indictment."" 

"If  everybody  in  Papago  County  had  told  me 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,"  she  cried.  "I  had  fo 


40 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

see  it  with  my  own  eyes  before  I  could  have  beei 
^convinced." 

'"Yes,  well  what  is  it  you  saw  with  your  eyes?" 

"You  needn't  keep  it  up.  I  tell  you  I  saw  it  all 
''from  the  time  you  fired  the  shot." 

He  laughed  easily,  but  without  mirth.  "Kept  tab 
<on  me,  did  you?" 

She  wheeled  from  him,  gave  a  catch  of  her 
breath,  and  caught  at  the  rock  wall  to  save  herself 
from  falling. 

He  spoke  sharply.  "You  hurt  yourself  in  the 
trough." 

"I  sprained  my  ankle  a  little,  but  it  doesn't 
matter." 

He  understood  now  why  she  had  made  so  slow 
a  descent  and  he  suspected  that  the  wrench  was 
more  than  she  admitted.  The  moon  had  come  out 
from  under  a  cloud  and  showed  him  a  pale,  tear- 
stained  face,  with  a  row  of  even,  little  teeth  set 
firm  against  the  lower  lip.  She  was  in  pain  and 
her  pride  was  keeping  it  from  him. 

"Let  me  look  at  your  ankle." 

"No." 

"I  say  yes.     You've  hurt  it  seriously." 

"That  is  my  business,  I  think,"  she  told  him  with 
cold  finality. 

"I'm  going  to  make  it  mine.  Think  I  don't  know 
you,  proud  as  Lucifer  when  you  get  set.  You'll 
lame  yourself  for  life  if  you're  not  careful." 

"I  don't  care  to  discuss  it." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 41 

"Fiddlesticks!  If  you've  got  anything  against 
me  we'll  hear  what  it  is  afterward.  Right  now  we'll 
give  first  aid  to  the  injured.  Sit  down  here." 

She  had  not  meant  to  give  way,  but  she  did.  Per 
haps  it  was  because  of  the  faintness  that  stole  over 
her,  or  because  the  pain  was  sharper  than  she  could 
well  endure.  She  found  herself  seated  on  the  rock 
shelf,  letting  him  cut  the  lace  out  of  her  shoe  and 
slip  it  off.  Ever  so  gently  he  worked,  but  he  could 
tell  by  the  catches  of  her  breath  that  it  was  not 
pleasant  to  endure.  From  his  neck  he  untied  the 
silk  kerchief  and  wrapped  it  tightly  around  the 
ankle. 

"That  will  have  to  do  till  I  get  you  home." 

"I'll  not  trouble  you,  sir.  If  you'll  stop  and  tell 
my  father  that  is  all  I'll  ask." 

"Different  here,"  he  retorted  cheerfully.  "Just  so 
as  to  avoid  any  argument,  I'll  announce  right  now 
that  Jack  Flatray  is  going  to  see  you  home.  It's 
his  say-so." 

She  rose.  None  knew  better  than  she  that  he  was 
a  dominating  man  when  he  chose  to  be.  She  her 
self  carried  in  her  slim  body  a  spirit  capable  of  pas 
sion  and  of  obstinacy,  but  to-night  she  had  not  the 
will  to  force  the  fighting. 

Setting  her  teeth,  she  took  a  step  or  two  forward, 
her  hand  against  the  rock  wall  to  help  bear  the 
weight.  With  narrowed  eyes,  he  watched  her 
closely,  noting  the  catches  of  pain  that  shot  through 


4Sr  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

her  breathing.  Half  way  up  the  boulder  bed  he  in 
terposed  brusquely. 

"This  is  plumb  foolishness,  girl.  You've  got  no 
business  putting  your  weight  on  that  foot,  and 
you're  not  going  to  do  it." 

He  slipped  his  arm  around  her  waist  in  such  a 
way  as  to  support  her  all  he  could.  With  a  quick 
turn  of  the  body  she  tried  to  escape. 

"No  use.  I'm  going  through  with  this,  'Lissie. 
Someone  has  been  lying  to  you  about  me,  and  just 
now  you  hate  the  ground  I  walk  on.  Good  enough. 
That's  got  nothing  to  do  with  this.  You're  a  woman 
that  needs  help,  and  any  old  time  J.  F.  meets  up 
with  such  a  one  he's  on  the  job.  You  don't  owe 
me  'Thank  you/  but  you've  got  to  stand  for  me  till 
you  reach  the  house." 

"You're  taking  advantage  of  me  because  I  can't 
help  myself.  Why  don't  you  go  and  bring  father," 
she  flung  out. 

"I'm  younger  than  your  father  and  abler  to  help. 
That's  why?" 

They  reached  the  top  of  the  bluff  and  he  made 
her  sit  down  to  rest.  A  pale  moon  suffused  the 
country,  and  in  that  stage  set  to  lowered  lights  her 
pallor  was  accented.  From  the  colorless  face  shad 
owy,  troubled  eyes  spoke  the  misery  through  which 
she  was  passing.  The  man  divined  that  her  pain 
was  more  than  physical,  and  the  knowledge  went 
to  him  poignantly  by  the  heart  route. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 43 

"What  is  it,  'Lissie?  What  have  I  done?"  he 
asked  gently. 

"You  know.     I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it." 

"But  I  don't  know." 

"What's  the  use  of  keeping  it  up  ?  I  caught  you 
this  afternoon." 

"Caught  me  doing  what?" 

"Caught  you  rustling,  caught  you  branding  a 
calf  just  after  you  had  shot  the  cow." 

For  an  instant  her  charge  struck  him  dumb.  He 
stared  at  her  as  if  he  thought  she  had  gone  suddenly 
mad. 

"What's  that?    Say  it  again,"  he  got  out  at  last. 

"And  the  cow  had  the  Bar  Double  G  brand,  be 
longed  to  my  father,  your  best  friend,"  she  added 
passionately. 

He  spoke  very  gently,  but  there  was  an  edge  to 
his  voice  that  was  new  to  her.  "Suppose  you  tell 
me  all  about  it." 

She  threw  out  a  hand  in  a  gesture  of  despair. 
"What's  the  use  ?  Nothing  could  have  made  me  be 
lieve  it  but  my  own  eyes.  You  needn't  keep  up  a 
pretense.  I  saw  you." 

"Yes,  so  you  said  before.  Now  begin  at  the 
start  and  tell  your  story." 

She  had  the  odd  feeling  of  being  put  on  the  de 
fensive  and  it  angered  her.  How  dared  he  look  at 
her  with  those  cool,  gray  eyes  that  still  appeared  to 
bore  a  hole  through  treachery  ?  Why  did  her  heart 


44 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

convict  her  of  having  deserted  a  friend,  when  she 
knew  that  the  desertion  was  his? 

"While  I  was  gathering  poppies  I  heard  a  shot 
It  was  so  close  I  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  draw 
and  looked  over.  There  I  saw  you." 

"What  was  I  doing?" 

"You  were  hogtying  a  calf." 

"And  then?" 

"I  didn't  understand  at  first.  I  thought  to  slip 
down  and  surprise  you  for  fun.  But  as  I  got  lower 
I  saw  the  dead  cow.  Just  then  you  began  to  brand 
the  calf  and  I  cried  out  to  you." 

"What  did  I  do?" 

"You  know  what  you  did,"  she  answered  wearily. 
"You  broke  for  the  brush  where  your  horse  was 
and  galloped  away." 

"Got  a  right  good  look  at  me,  did  you?" 

"Not  at  your  face.  But  I  knew.  You  were  wear 
ing  this  blue  silk  handkerchief."  Her  finger  indi 
cated  the  one  bound  around  her  ankle. 

"So  on  that  evidence  you  decide  I'm  a  rustler, 
and  you've  only  known  me  thirteen  years.  You're 
a  good  friend,  'Lissie." 

Her  eyes  blazed  on  him  like  live  coals.  "Have 
you  forgotten  the  calf  you  left  with  your  brand 
on  it?" 

She  had  startled  him  at  last.  "With  my  brand 
on  it?"  he  repeated,  his  voice  dangerously  low  and 
soft. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do.    You  had  got  the  F 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  45 

just  about  finished  when  I  called.  You  dropped 
the  running  iron  and  ran." 

"Dropped  it  and  ran,  did  I?  And  what  did 
you  do?" 

"I  reheated  the  iron  and  blurred  the  brand  so 
that  nobody  could  tell  what  it  had  been." 

He  laughed  harshly  without  mirth.  "I  see.  I'm 
a  waddy  and  a  thief,  but  you're  going  to  protect 
me  for  old  times'  sake.  That's  the  play,  is  it?  I 
ought  to  be  much  obliged  to  you  and  promise  to 
reform,  I  reckon." 

His  bitterness  stung.  She  felt  a  tightening  of  the 
throat.  "All  I  ask  is  that  you  go  away  and  never 
come  back  to  me,"  she  cried  with  a  sob. 

"Don't  worry  about  that.  I  ain't  likely  to  come 
back  to  a  girl  that  thinks  I'm  the  lowest  thing  that 
walks.  You're  not  through  with  me  a  bit  more 
than  I  am  with  you,"  he  answered  harshly. 

Her  little  hand  beat  upon  the  rock  in  her  distress. 
"I  never  would  have  believed  it.  Nobody  could 
Have  made  me  believe  it.  I — I — why,  I  trusted 
you  like  my  own  father,"  she  lamented.  "To  think 
that  you  would  take  that  way  to  stock  your  ranch 
—and  with  the  cattle  of  my  father,  too." 

His  face  was  hard  as  chiseled  granite.  "Distrust 
all  your  friends.  That's  the  best  way." 

"You  haven't  even  denied  it — not  that  it  would 
do  any  good,"  she  said  miserably. 

There  was  a  sound  of  hard,  grim  laughter  in  his 


46  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

throat.  "No,  and  I  ain't  going  to  deny  it.  Are 
you  ready  to  go  yet?" 

His  repulse  of  her  little  tentative  advance  was 
like  a  blow  on  the  face  to  her. 

She  made  a  movement  to  rise.  While  she  was 
still  on  her  knees  he  stooped,  put  his  arms  around 
her,  and  took  her  into  them.  Before  she  could  utter 
her  protest  he  had  started  down  the  trail  toward 
the  house. 

"How  dare  you?    Let  me  go/'  she  ordered. 

"You're  not  able  to  walk,  and  you'll  go  the  way 
I  say,"  he  told  her  shortly  in  a  flinty  voice. 

Her  anger  was  none  the  less  because  she  realized 
her  helplessness  to  get  what  she  wanted.  Her  teeth 
set  fast  to  keep  back  useless  words.  Into  his  stony 
eyes  her  angry  ones  burned.  The  quick,  irregular 
rise  and  fall  of  her  bosom  against  his  heart  told 
him  how  she  was  struggling  with  her  passion. 

Once  he  spoke.  "Tell  me  where  it  was  you  saw 
this  rustler — the  exact  place  near  as  you  can  lo 
cate  it." 

She  answered  only  by  a  look. 

The  deputy  strode  into  the  living  room  of  the 
ranch  with  her  in  his  arms.  Lee  was  reading  a 
newspaper  Jack  had  brought  with  him  from  Mesa. 
At  sight  of  them  he  started  up  hurriedly. 

"Goddlemighty,  what's  the  matter,  Jack?" 

"Only  a  ricked  ankle,  Champ.  Slipped  on  a 
stone,"  Flatray  explained  as  he  put  Melissy  down 
on  the  lounge. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 47 

In  two  minutes  the  whole  house  was  upset.  Hop 
Ling  was  heating  water  to  bathe  the  sprain.  A 
rider  from  the  bunkhouse  was  saddling  to  go  for 
the  doctor.  Another  was  off  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  to  buy  some  liniment  at  Mammoth. 

In  the  confusion  Flatray  ran  up  his  horse  from 
the  pasture,  slapped  on  the  saddle,  and  melted  into 
the  night. 

An  hour  later  Melissy  asked  her  father  what  had 
become  of  him. 

"Doggone  that  boy,  I  don't  know  where  he  went. 
Reckon  he  thought  he'd  be  in  the  way.  Mighty 
funny  he  didn't  give  us  a  chanct  to  tell  him  to  stay." 

"Probably  he  had  business  in  Mesa,"  Melissy  an 
swered,  turning  her  face  to  the  wall. 

"Business  nothing,"  retorted  the  exasperated 
rancher.  "He  figured  we  couldn't  eat  and  sleep 
him  without  extra  trouble.  Ain't  that  a  fine  repu 
tation  for  him  to  be  giving  the  Bar  Double  G  ?  I'll 
curl  his  hair  for  him  onct  I  meet  up  with  him 
again." 

"If  you  would  put  out  the  light,  I  think  I  could 
sleep,  dad,"  she  told  him  in  the  least  of  voices. 

"Sure,  honey.  Has  the  throbbing  gone  out  of 
the  ankle?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"Not  entirely,  but  it's  a  good  deal  better.  Good 
night,  dad." 

"If  Doc  comes  I'll  bring  him  in,"  Lee  said  after 
he  had  kissed  her. 

"Do,  please." 


48 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

But  after  she  was  left  alone  Melissy  did  not  pre 
pare  herself  for  sleep.  Her  wide  open  eyes  stared 
into  the  darkness,  while  her  mind  stormily  reviewed 
the  day.  The  man  who  for  years  had  been  her  best 
friend  was  a  scoundrel.  She  had  proved  him  un 
worthy  of  her  trust,  and  on  top  of  that  he  had 
insulted  her.  Hot  tears  stung  her  eyes — tears  of 
shame,  of  wounded  self-love,  of  mortification,  and 
of  something  more  worthy  than  any  of  these. 

She  grieved  passionately  for  that  which  had  gone 
out  of  her  life,  for  the  comradeship  that  had  been 
so  precious  to  her.  If  this  man  were  a  waddy,  who 
of  all  her  friends  could  she  trust?  She  could  have 
forgiven  him  had  he  done  wrong  in  the  heat  of 
anger.  But  this  premeditated  evil  was  beyond  for 
giveness.  To  make  it  worse,  he  had  come  direct 
from  the  doing  of  it  to  meet  her,  with  a  brazen 
on  his  lips  and  a  lie  in  his  heart.  She  would 
speak  to  him  again — never  so  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  MAN   WITH   THE  CHIHUAHUA   HAT 

A  LITTLE  dust  cloud  was  traveling-  up  the 
trail  toward  the  Bar  Double  G,  the  center 
of  which  presently  defined  itself  as  a  rider 
moving  at  a  road  gait.  He  wore  a  Chihuahua  hat 
and  with  it  the  picturesque  trappings  the  Southwest 
borrows  on  occasion  from  across  the  border.  Van 
ity  disclosed  itself  in  the  gold-laced  hat,  in  the  silver 
conchos  of  the  fringed  chaps,  in  the  fine  workman 
ship  of  the  saddle  and  bit.  The  man's  finery  was 
overdone,  carried  with  it  the  suggestion  of  being 
on  exhibition.  But  one  look  at  the  man  himself, 
sleek  and  graceful,  black-haired  and  white-toothed, 
exuding  an  effect  of  cold  wariness  in  spite  of  the 
masked  smiling  face,  would  have  been  enough  to 
give  the  lie  to  any  charge  of  weakness.  His  fop 
peries  could  not  conceal  the  silken  strength  of  him. 
One  meeting  with  the  chill,  deep-set  eyes  was  cer 
tificate  enough  for  most  people. 

Melissy,  sitting  on  the  porch  with  her  foot  rest 
ing  on  a  second  chair,  knew  a  slight  quickening  of 
the  blood  as  she  watched  him  approach. 

"Good  evenin',  Miss  M'lissy,"  he  cried,  sweep 
ing  his  sombrero  as  low  as  the  stirrup. 

49 


50  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Buenos  tardes,  Senor  Norris,"  she  flung  back 
gayly. 

Sitting  at  ease  in  the  saddle,  he  leisurely  looked 
her  over  with  eyes  that  smoldered  behind  half-shut 
tered  lids.  To  most  of  her  world  she  was  in  spirit 
still  more  boy  than  woman,  but  before  his  bold,  pos 
sessive  gaze  her  long  lashes  wavered  to  the  cheeks 
into  which  the  warm  blood  was  beating.  Her  long, 
free  lines  were  still  slender  with  the  immaturity 
of  youth,  her  soul  still  hesitating  reluctantly  to 
cross  th*  border  to  womanhood  toward  which  Na 
ture  was  pushing  her  so  relentlessly.  From  a  fund 
of  experience  Philip  Norris  read  her  shrewdly, 
knew  how  to  evoke  the  latent  impulses  which 
brought  her  eagerly  to  the  sex  duel. 

"Playing  off  for  sick,"  he  scoffed. 

"I'm  not,"  she  protested.  "Never  get  sick.  It's 
just  a  sprained  ankle." 

"Sho!  I  guess  you're  Miss  Make  Believe;  just 
harrowing  the  feelings  of  your  beaux." 

"The  way  you  talk!  I  haven't  got  any  beaux. 
The  boys  are  just  my  friends." 

"Oh,  just  friends!  And  no  beaux.  My,  my1 
Not  a  single  sweetheart  in  all  this  wide  open  coun 
try.  Shall  I  go  rope  you  one  and  bring  him  in 
compadre?" 

"No!"  she  exploded.  "I  don't  want  any.  I'm 
not  old  enough  yet."  Her  dancing  eyes  belied  the 
words. 

"Now  I  wouldn't  have  guessed  it.     You  look  to 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  51 

me  most  ready  to  be  picked."  He  rested  his  weight 
on  the  farther  stirrup  and  let  his  lazy  smile  mock 
her.  "My  estimate  would  be  sixteen.  I'll  bet  you're 
every  day  of  that." 

"I  only  lack  three  months  of  being  eighteen,"  she 
came  back  indignantly. 

"You  don't  say!  You'll  ce'tainly  have  to  be  ad 
vertising  for  a  husband  soon,  Miss  Three-Quarters- 
Past-Seventeen.  Maybe  an  ad  in  the  Mesa  paper 
would  help.  You  ain't  so  awful  bad  looking." 

"I'll  let  you  write  it.  What  would  you  say?" 
she  demanded,  a  patch  of  pink  standing  out  near 
the  curve  of  the  cheek  bone. 

He  swung  from  the  saddle  and  flung  the  reins 
to  the  ground.  With  jingling  spurs  he  came  up 
the  steps  and  sat  on  the  top  one,  his  back  against 
a  pillar.  Boldly  his  admiring  eyes  swept  her. 

"Nina,  I  couldn't  do  the  subject  justice.  Hon 
est,  I  haven't  got  the  vocabulary." 

"Oh,  you !"  Laughter  was  in  the  eyes  that  stud 
ied  him  with  a  side  tilt  of  the  chin.  "That's  a  fine 
way  to  get  out  of  it  when  your  bluff  is  called." 

He  leaned  back  against  the  post  comfortably  and 
absorbed  the  beauty  of  the  western  horizon.  The 
sun  had  just  set  behind  a  saddle  of  the  Galiuros  in 
a  splash  of  splendor.  All  the  colors  of  the  rainbow 
fought  for  supremacy  in  a  brilliant-tinted  sky  that 
blazed  above  the  fire-girt  peaks.  Soon  dusk  would 
slip  down  over  the  land  and  tone  the  hues  to  a 
softer  harmony.  A  purple  sea  would  flow  over  the 


52  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

hills,  to  be  in  turn  displaced  by  a  deep,  soft  violet. 
Then  night,  that  night  of  mystery  and  romance 
which  transforms  the  desert  to  a  thing  of  incredible 
wonder! 

"Did  your  father  buy  this  sunset  with  the  ranch? 
And  has  he  got  a  guarantee  that  it  will  perform 
every  night?"  he  asked. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it?"  she  cried. 
"I  have  looked  at  them  all  my  life  and  I  never  get 
tired." 

He  laughed  softly,  his  indolent,  sleepy  look  on 
her.  "Some  things  I  would  never  get  tired  of  look 
ing  at  either." 

Without  speaking  she  nodded,  still  absorbing  the 
sunset. 

"But  it  wouldn't  be  that  kind  of  scenery,"  he 
added.  "How  tall  are  you,  muthacha?" 

Her  glance  came  around  in  surprise.  "I  don't 
"know.  About  five  foot  five,  I  think.  Why?" 

"I'm  working  on  that  ad.  How  would  this  do? 
'Miss  Three-Ouarters-Past-Seventeen  wants  to  meet 
up  with  gentleman  between  eighteen  and  forty- 
eight.  Object,  matrimony.  Description  of  lady : 
Slim,  medium  height,  brunette,  mop  of  blue-black 
hair,  the  prettiest  dimple  you  ever  saw " 

"Now  I  know  you're  making  fun  of  me.  I'm 
mad."  And  the  dimple  flashed  into  being. 

"  ' — mostly  says  the  opposite  of  what  she  means, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"I  don't.    I  don't" 

"  '  —  has  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  her,  which  -  '  ' 

"Now,  I  am  mad,"  she  interrupted,  laughing. 

"  '  —  which  is  excusable,  since  she  has  the  reddest 
lips  for  kissing  in  Arizona,'  ' 

He  had  gone  too  far.  Her  innocence  was  in 
arms.  Norris  knew  it  by  the  swiftness  with  which 
the  smile  vanished  from  her  face,  by  the  flash  of 
anger  in  the  eyes. 

"I  prefer  to  talk  about  something  else,  Mr.  Nor 
ris,"  she  said  with  all  the  prim  stiffness  of  a  school 
girl. 

Her  father  relieved  the  tension  by  striding  across 
from  the  stable.  With  him  came  a  bowlegged  young 
fellow  in  plain  leathers.  The  youngster  was  Charley 
Hymer,  one  of  the  riders  for  the  Bar  Double  G. 

"You're  here  at  the  right  time,  Norris,"  Lee  said 
grimly.  "Charley  has  just  come  down  from  Ante 
lope  Pass.  He  found  one  of  my  cows  dead,  with 
a  bullet  hole  through  the  forehead.  The  ashes  of 
a  fire  were  there,  and  in  the  brush  not  far  away  a 
running  iron." 

The  eyes  of  Norris  narrowed  to  slits.  He  was 
the  cattle  detective  of  the  association  and  for  a  year 
now  the  rustlers  had  outgeneraled  him.  "I'll  have 
you  take  me  to  the  spot,  Charley.  Get  a  move  on 
you  and  we'll  get  there  soon  as  the  moon  is  up." 

Melissy  gripped  the  arms  of  her  chair  tightly 
with  both  hands.  She  was  looking  at  Norris  with 
a  new  expression,  a  kind  of  breathless  fear.  She 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


knew  him  for  a  man  who  could  not  be  swerved  from 
the  thing  he  wanted.  For  all  his  easy  cynicism,  he 
had  the  reputation  of  being  a  bloodhound  on  the 
trail.  Moreover,  she  knew  that  he  was  no  friend 
to  Jack  Flatray.  Why  had  she  left  that  running 
iron  as  evidence  to  convict  its  owner?  What  folly 
not  to  have  removed  it  from  the  immediate  scene  of 
the  crime  ! 

The  cattle  detective  and  her  father  had  moved 
a  few  steps  away  and  were  talking  in  low  tones. 
Melissy  became  aware  of  a  footfall.  The  man  who 
called  himself  Morse  came  around  the  corner  of 
the  house  and  stopped  at  the  porch  steps. 

"May  I  speak  to  you  a  moment,  Miss  Lee?"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Of  course." 

The  voice  of  Norris  rose  to  an  irritated  snarl. 
"Tell  you  I've  got  evidence,  Lee.  Mebbe  it's  not 
enough  to  convict,  but  it  satisfies  me  a-plenty  that 
Jack  Flatray's  the  man." 

Melissy  was  frozen  to  a  tense  attention.  Her 
whole  mind  was  on  what  passed  between  the  detec 
tive  and  her  father.  Otherwise  she  would  have  no 
ticed  the  swift  change  that  transformed  the  tender 
foot. 

The  rancher  answered  with  impatient  annoyance. 
"You're  'way  off,  Norris.  I  don't  care  anything 
about  your  evidence.  The  idea  is  plumb  ridiculous. 
Twenty  odd  years  I've  known  him.  He's  the  best 
they  make,  a  pure  through  and  through.  Not  a 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  55 

crooked  hair  in  his  head.  I've  eat  out  of  the  same 
frying  pan  too  often  with  that  boy  not  to  know 
what  he  is.  You  go  bury  those  suspicions  of  yours 
immediate.  There's  nothing  to  them." 

Norris  grumbled  objections  as  they  moved  toward 
the  stable.  Melissy  drew  a  long  breath  and  brought 
herself  back  to  the  tenderfoot. 

He  stood  like  a  coiled  spring,  head  thrust  far 
forward  from  the  shoulders.  The  look  in  his  black 
eyes  was  something  new  to  her  experience.  For 
hate,  passion,  caution  were  all  mirrored  there. 

"You  know    Mr.  Norris,"  she  said  quickly. 

He  started.  "What  did  you  say  his  name  was?" 
he  asked  with  an  assumption  of  carelessness. 

"Norris — Philip  Norris.  He  is  a  cattle  detective." 

"Never  heard  of  Mr.  Norris  before  in  my  life," 
he  answered,  but  it  was  observable  that  he  still 
breathed  deep. 

She  did  not  believe  him.  Some  tie  in  their  buried 
past  bound  these  two  men  together.  They  must 
have  known  each  other  in  the  South  years  ago,  and 
one  of  them  at  least  was  an  enemy  of  the  other. 
There  might  come  a  day  when  she  could  use  this 
knowledge  to  save  Jack  Flatray  from  the  punish 
ment  dogging  his  heels.  Melissy  filed  it  away  ia 
her  memory  for  future  reference. 

"You  wanted  to  speak  to  me,"  she  suggested 

"I'm  going  away." 

"What  for?" 


66 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

''Because  I'm  not  a  hound.  I  can't  blackmail  a 
woman." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  you've  found  work  here  for  me 
because  I  saw  what  you  did  over  by  Antelope  Pass. 
We  made  a  bargain.  Oh,  not  in  words,  but  a  bar 
gain  just  the  same!  You  were  to  keep  my  secret 
because  I  knew  yours.  I  release  you  from  your  part 
of  it.  Give  me  up  if  you  think  it  Is  your  duty. 
I'll  not  tell  what  I  know." 

"That  wasn't  how  you  talked  the  other  day." 

"No.  It's  how  I  talk  now.  I'm  a  hunted  man, 
wanted  for  murder.  I  make  you  a  present  of  the 
information." 

"You  make  me  a  present  of  what  I  already  know, 
Mr.  Diller,  alias  Morse,  alias  Bellamy." 

"You  guessed  it  the  first  day?" 

"Yes." 

"And  meant  to  keep  quiet  about  it?" 

"Yes,  I  meant  to  shelter  you  from  the  punishment 
you  deserve."  She  added  with  a  touch  of  bitter 
self-scorn :  "I  was  doing  what  I  had  to  do." 

"You  don't  have  to  do  it  any  longer."  He  looked 
straight  at  her  with  his  head  up.  "And  how  do  you 
know  what  I  deserve?  Who  made  you  a  judge 
about  these  facts?  Grant  for  the  sake  of  argument 
I  killed  him.  Do  you  know  I  wasn't  justified?" 

His  fierce  boldness  put  her  on  the  defense.  "A 
man  sure  of  his  cause  does  not  run  away.  The 
paper  said  this  Shep  Boone  was  shot  from  ambush. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  57 

Nothing  could  justify  such  a  thing.  When  you 
did  that " 

"I  didn't    Don't  believe  it,  Miss  Lee." 

"He  was  shot  from  behind,  the  paper  said." 

"Do  I  look  like  a  man  who  would  kill  from 
ambush  ?" 

She  admitted  to  herself  that  this  clear-eyed  South 
erner  did  not  look  like  an  assassin.  Life  in  the  open 
had  made  her  a  judge  of  such  men  as  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  meet,  but  for  days  she  had  been  tell 
ing  herself  she  could  no  longer  trust  her  judgment. 
Her  best  friend  was  a  rustler.  By  a  woman's  logic 
it  followed  that  since  Jack  Flatray  was  a  thief  this 
man  might  have  committed  all  the  crimes  in  the 
calendar. 

"I  don't  know."  Then,  impulsively,  "No,  you 
don't,  but  you  may  be  for  all  that." 

"I'm  not  asking  anything  for  myself.  You  may 
do  as  you  please  after  I've  gone.  Send  for  Mr. 
Flatray  and  tell  him  if  you  like." 

A  horse  cantered  across  the  plaza  toward  the 
store.  Bellamy  turned  quickly  to  go. 

"I'm  not  going  to  tell  anyone,"  the  girl  called 
after  him  in  a  low  voice. 

Norris  swung  from  the  saddle.  "Who's  our  hur 
ried  friend?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

"Oh,  a  new  rider  of  ours.  Name  of  Morse." 
She  changed  the  subject.  "Are  you — do  you  think 
you  know  who  the  rustler  is?" 

His  cold,  black  eyes  rested  in  hers.     She  read  in 


58  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

them  something  cruel  and  sinister.  It  was  as  if  he 
were  walking  over  the  grave  of  an  enemy. 

"I'm  gathering  evidence,  a  little  at  a  time." 

"Do  I  know  him?" 

"Maybe  you  do." 

"Tell  me." 

He  shook  his  head.  "Wait  till  I've  got  him 
cinched." 

"You  told  father,"  she  accused. 

He  laughed  in  a  hard,  mirthless  fashion.  "That 
cured  me.  The  Lee  family  is  from  Missouri.  When 
I  talk  next  time  I'll  have  the  goods  to  show." 

"I  know  who  you  mean.  You're  making  a  mis 
take."  Her  voice  seemed  to  plead  with  him. 

"Not  on  your  life,  I  ain't.  But  we'll  talk  about 
that  when  the  subject  is  riper.  There  will  be  a 
showdown  some  day,  and  don't  you  forget  it.  Well, 
Charley  is  calling  me.  So  long,  Miss  Three-Quar- 
ters-Past-Seventeen."  He  went  jingling  down  the 
steps  and  swung  to  the  saddle.  "I'll  not  forget  the 
ad,  and  when  I  find  the  right  man  I'll  ce'tainly  rope 
and  bring  him  to  you." 

"The  rustler?"  she  asked  innocently. 

"No,  not  the  rustler,  the  gent  between  eighteen! 
and  forty-eight,  object  matrimony." 

"I  don't  want  to  trouble  you,"  she  flung  at  him 
with  her  gay  smile. 

"No  trouble  at  all.  Fact  is,  I've  got  him  in  mind 
already,"  he  assured  her  promptly. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 59 

"Oh!"  A  pulse  of  excitement  was  beating  in 
her  throat 

"You  don't  ask  me  who  he  is,"  suggested  Norris 
boldly,  crouched  in  the  saddle  with  his  weight  on 
the  far  stirrup. 

She  had  brought  it  upon  herself,  but  now  she 
dodged  the  issue.  "  'Most  anyone  will  do,  and  me 
going  on  eighteen." 

"You're  wrong,  girl.  Only  one  out  of  a  thou 
sand  will  do  for  your  master." 

"Master,  indeed!  If  he  comes  to  the  Bar 
Double  G  he'll  find  he  is  at  the  wrong  address. 
None  wanted,  thank  you." 

"Most  folks  don't  want  what's  best  for  them,  I 
allow.  But  if  they  have  luck  it  sometimes  comes 
to  them." 

"Luck!"  she  echoed,  her  chin  in  the  air. 

"You  heard  me  right.  What  you  need  is  a  man 
that  ain't  afraid  of  you,  one  to  ride  close  herd  on 
you  so  as  to  head  off  them  stampede  notions  of 
yours.  Now  this  lad  is  the  very  one.  He  is  a 
black-haired  guy,  and  when  he  says  a  thing -" 

Involuntarily  she  glanced  at  his  sleek  black  head. 
Melissy  felt  a  sudden  clamor  of  the  blood,  a  pound 
ing  of  the  pulses. 

" — he  most  generally  means  it.  I've  wrangled 
around  a  heap  with  him  and  there's  no  manner  of 
doubt  he's  up  to  specifications.  In  appearance  he 
looks  like  me.  Point  of  fact,  he's  a  dead  ringer 
for  me." 


60 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

She  saw  her  chance  and  flashed  out.  "Now  you're 
flattering  him.  There  can't  be  two  as — as  fascinat 
ing  as  Sefior  Norris,"  she  mocked. 

His  smoldering  eyes  had  the  possessive  insolence 
she  resented  and  yet  found  so  stimulating. 

"Did  I  say  there  were  two?"  he  drawled. 

It  was  his  parting  shot.  With  a  touch  of  the 
spur  he  was  off,  leaving  her  no  time  for  an  adequate 
answer. 

There  were  no  elusions  and  inferences  about 
Philip  Norris  when  he  wanted  to  be  direct.  He  had 
fairly  taken  her  breath  away.  Melissy's  instinst 
told  her  there  was  something  humiliating  about 
such  a  wooing.  But  picturesque  and  unconventional 
conduct  excuse  themselves  in  a  picturesque  person 
ality.  And  this  man  had  that  if  nothing  else. 

She  told  herself  she  was  angry  at  him,  that  he 
took  liberties  far  beyond  those  of  any  of  the  other 
young  men.  Yet,  somehow,  she  went  into  the  house 
smiling.  A  color  born  of  excitement  burned  be 
neath  her  sparkling  eyes.  She  had  entered  into  her 
heritage  of  womanhood  and  the  call  of  sex  was 
summoning  her  to  the  adventure  that  is  old  as  the 
garden  where  Eve  met  Adam. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  TENDERFOOT   TAKES  UP   A    CLAIM 

MR.  DILLER,  alias  Morse,  alias  Bellamy, 
did  not  long  remain  at  the  Bar  Double  G 
as  a  rider.  It  developed  that  he  had 
money,  and,  tenderfoot  though  he  was,  the  man 
showed  a  shrewd  judgment  in  his  investments.  He 
bought  sheep  and  put  them  on  the  government  for 
est  reserve,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  cattle 
men  of  the  district. 

Morse,  as  he  now  called  himself,  was  not  the 
first  man  who  had  brought  sheep  into  the  border 
country.  Far  up  in  the  hills  were  several  camps 
of  them.  But  hitherto  these  had  been  there  on  suf 
ferance,  and  it  had  been  understood  that  they  were 
to  be  kept  far  from  the  cattle  range.  The  exten 
sion  of  the  government  reserves  changed  the  equa 
tion.  A  good  slice  of  the  range  was  cut  off  and 
thrown  open  to  sheep.  When  Morse  leased  this 
and  put  five  thousand  bleaters  upon  the  feeding 
ground  the  sentiment  against  him  grew  very  bitter. 

Lee  had  been  spokesman  of  a  committee  apoointed 
to  remonstrate  with  him.  Morse  had  met  them 

61 


62  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

pleasantly  but  firmly.  This  part  of  the  reserve  had 
been  set  aside  for  sheep.  If  it  were  not  leased  by 
him  it  would  be  by  somebody  else.  Therefore,  he 
declined  to  withdraw  his  flocks.  Champ  lost  his 
temper  and  swore  that  he  for  one  would  never  sub 
mit  to  yield  the  range.  Sharp  bitter  words  were 
passed.  Next  week  masked  men  drove  a  small 
flock  belonging  to  Morse  over  a  precipice. 

The  tenderfoot  retaliated  by  jumping  a  mining 
claim  staked  out  by  Lee  upon  which  the  assessment 
work  had  not  been  kept  up.  The  cattleman  con 
tested  this  in  the  courts,  lost  the  decision,  and 
promptly  appealed.  Meanwhile,  he  countered  by 
leasing  from  the  forest  supervisor  part  of  the  rua 
previously  held  by  his  opponent  and  putting  sheep 
of  his  own  upon  it. 

"I  reckon  I'll  play  Mr.  Morse's  own  game  and 
see  how  he  likes  it,"  the  angry  cattleman  told  his 
friends. 

But  the  luck  was  all  with  Morse.  Before  he  had 
been  working  his  new  claim  a  month  the  Monte 
Cristo  (he  had  changed  the  name  from  its  original 
one  of  Melissy)  proved  a  bonanza.  His  men  ran 
into  a  rich  streak  of  dirt  that  started  a  stampede 
for  the  vicinity. 

Champ  indulged  in  choice  profanity.  From  his 
point  of  view  he  had  been  robbed,  and  he  announced 
the  fact  freely  to  such  acquaintances  as  dropped  into 
the  Bar  Double  G  store. 

"Dad  gum  it,  I  was  aimin'  to  do  that  assessment 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  63 

work  and  couldn't  jest  lay  my  hands  on  the  time. 
I'd  been  a  millionaire  three  years  and  didn't  know 
it.  Then  this  damned  Morse  butts  in  and  euchres 
me  out  of  the  claim.  Some  day  him  and  me'll  have 
a  settlement.  If  the  law  don't  right  me,  I  reckon 
I'm  most  man  enough  to  'tend  to  Mr.  Morse." 

It  was  his  daughter  who  had  hitherto  succeeded 
in  keeping  the  peace.  When  the  news  of  the  reloca 
tion  had  reached  Lee  he  had  at  once  started  to  settle 
the  matter  with  a  Winchester,  but  Melissy,  getting 
news  of  his  intention,  had  caught  up  a  horse  and 
ridden  bareback  after  him  in  time  to  avert  by  her 
entreaties  a  tragedy.  For  six  months  after  this 
the  men  had  not  chanced  to  meet. 

Why  the  tenderfoot  had  first  come  West — to  hide 
what  wounds  in  the  great  baked  desert — no  man 
knew  or  asked.  Melissy  had  guessed,  but  she  did 
not  breathe  to  a  soul  her  knowledge.  It  was  a  first 
article  of  Arizona's  creed  that  a  man's  past  be 
longed  to  him  alone,  was  a  blotted  book  if  he  chose 
to  have  it  so.  No  doubt  many  had  private  reasons 
for  their  untrumpeted  migration  to  that  kindly 
Southwest  which  buries  identity,  but  no  wise  citizen 
busied  himself  with  questions  about  antecedents. 
The  present  served  to  sift  one,  and  by  the  way  a 
man  met  it  his  neighbors  judged  him. 

And  T.  L.  Morse  met  it  competently.  In  every 
emergency  with  which  he  had  to  cope  the  man 
"stood  the  acid."  Arizona  approved  him  a  man, 
without  according  him  any  popularity.  He  was  too 


64  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

dogmatic  to  win  liking,  but  he  had  a  genius  for  suc 
cess.  Everything  he  touched  turned  to  gold. 

The  Bar  Double  G  lies  half  way  between  Mam 
moth  and  Mesa.  Its  position  makes  it  a  central 
point  for  ranchers  within  a  radius  of  fifteen  miles. 
Out  of  the  logical  need  for  it  was  born  the  store 
which  Beauchamp  Lee  ran  to  supply  his  neighbors 
with  canned  goods,  coffee,  tobacco,  and  other  in- 
dispensables ;  also  the  eating  house  for  stage  pas 
sengers  passing  to  and  from  the  towns.  Young  as 
she  was,  Melissy  was  the  competent  manager  of 
both  of  these. 

It  was  one  afternoon  during  the  hour  the  stage 
stopped  to  let  the  passengers  dine  that  Melissy's 
wandering  eye  fell  upon  Morse  seated  at  one  of  the 
tables.  Anger  mounted  within  her  at  the  cool  im 
pudence  of  the  man.  She  had  half  a  mind  to  order 
him  out,  but  saw  he  was  nearly  through  dinner 
and  did  not  want  to  make  a  scene.  Unfortunately 
Beauchamp  Lee  happened  to  come  into  the  store 
just  as  his  enemy  strolled  out  from  the  dining- 
room. 

The  ranchman  stiffened.  "What  you  been  doing1 
in  there,  seh?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"I've  been  eating  a  very  good  dinner  in  a  public 
cafe.  Any  objections?" 

"Plenty  of  'em,  seh.  I  don't  aim  to  keep  open 
house  for  Mr.  Morse." 

"I  understand  this  is  a  business  proposition.  * 
expect  to  pay  seventy-five  cents  for  my  meal." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  65 

The  eyes  of  the  older  man  gleamed  wrath  fully. 
"As  for  yo'  six  bits,  if  you  offer  it  to  me  I'll  take 
it  as  an  insult.  At  the  Bar  Double  G  we're  not 
doing  friendly  business  with  claim  jumpers.  Don't 
you  evah  set  yo'  legs  under  my  table  again,  seh." 

Morse  shrugged,  turned  away  to  the  public  desk, 
and  addressed  an  envelope,  the  while  Lee  glared  at 
him  from  under  his  heavy  beetling  brows.  Melissy 
saw  that  her  father  was  still  of  half  a  mind  to 
throw  out  the  intruder  and  she  called  him  to  her. 

"Dad,  Jose  wants  you  to  look  at  the  hoof  of  one 
of  his  wheelers.  He  asked  if  you  would  come  as 
soon  as  you  could." 

Beauchamp  still  frowned  at  Morse,  rasping  his 
unshaven  chin  with  his  hand.  "Ce'tainly,  honey. 
Glad  to  look  at  it." 

"Dad!     Please." 

The  ranchman  went  out,  grumbling.  Five  min 
utes  later  Morse  took  his  seat  on  the  stage  beside 
the  driver,  having  first  left  seventy-five  cents  on 
the  counter. 

The  stage  had  scarce  gone  when  the  girl  looked 
up  from  her  bookkeeping  to  see  the  man  with  the 
Chihuahua  hat. 

"Buenos  iardes,  senorita"  he  gave  her  with  a 
flash  of  white  teeth. 

"Buenos,"  she  nodded  coolly. 

But  the  dancing  eyes  of  her  could  not  deny  their 
pleasure  at  sight  of  him.  They  had  rested  upor 


66  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

men  as  handsome,  but  upon  none  who  stirred  her 
blood  so  much. 

He  was  in  the  leather  chaps  of  a  cowpuncher, 
gray-shirted,  and  a  polka  dot  kerchief  circled  the 
brown  throat.  Life  rippled  gloriously  from  every 
motion  of  him.  Hermes  himself  might  have  en 
vied  the  perfect  grace  of  the  man. 

She  supplied  his  wants  while  they  chatted. 

"Jogged  off  your  range  quite  a  bit,  haven't  you?" 
she  suggested. 

"Some.  I'll  take  two  bits'  worth  of  that  smokin', 
nina" 

She  shook  her  head.  "I'm  no  little  girl.  Don't 
you  know  I'm  now  half  past  eighteen?" 

"My — my.  That  ad  didn't  do  a  mite  of  good, 
did  it?" 

"Not  a  bit." 

"And  you  growing  older  every  day." 

"Does  my  age  show?"  she  wanted  to  know 
anxiously. 

The  scarce  veiled  admiration  of  his  smoldering 
eyes  drew  the  blood  to  her  dusky  cheeks.  Some 
thing  vigilant  lay  crouched  panther-like?  behind  the 
laughter  of  his  surface  badinage. 

"You're  standing  it  well,  honey." 

The  color  beat  into  her  face,  less  at  the  word 
than  at  the  purring  caress  in  his  voice.  A  year  ago 
she  had  been  a  child.  But  in  the  Southland  flowers 
ripen  fast.  Adolescence  steals  hard  upon  the  heeli 
of  infancy,  and,  though  the  girl  had  never 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  67 

to  love,  Nature  was  pushing  her  relentlessly  toward 
a  womanhood  for  which  her  unschooled  impulses 
but  scantily  safeguarded  her. 

She  turned  toward  the  shelves.  "How  many  air- 
tights  did  you  say?" 

"I  didn't  say."  He  leaned  forward  across  the 
counter.  "What's  the  hurry,  little  girl?" 

"My  name  is  Melissy  Lee,"  she  told  him  over 
her  shoulder. 

"Mine  is  Phil  Norris.  Glad  to  give  it  to  you, 
Melissy  Lee,"  the  man  retorted  glibly. 

"Can't  use  it,  thank  you,"  came  her  swift  saucy 
answer. 

"Or  to  lend  it  to  you — say,  for  a  week  or  two." 

She  flashed  a  look  at  him  and  passed  quickly 
from  behind  the  counter.  Her  father  was  just  com 
ing  into  the  store. 

"Will  you  wait  on  Mr.  Norris,  dad?  Hop  wants 
to  see  me  in  the  kitchen." 

Norris  swore  softly  under  his  breath.  The  last 
thing  he  had  wanted  was  to  drive  her  away.  It 
had  been  nearly  a  year  since  he  had  seen  her  last, 
but  the  picture  of  her  had  been  in  the  coals  of 
many  a  night  camp  fire. 

The  cattle  detective  stayed  to  dinner  and  to  sup 
per.  He  and  her  father  had  their  heads  together 
for  hours,  their  voices  pitched  to  a  murmur.  Me 
lissy  wondered  what  business  could  have  brought 
him,  whether  it  could  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
renewed  rustling  that  had  of  late  annoyed  the 


68 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

neighborhood.  This  brought  her  thoughts  to  Jack 
Flatray.  He,  too,  had  almost  dropped  from  her 
world,  though  she  heard  of  him  now  and  again. 
Not  once  had  he  been  to  see  her  since  the  night  she 
had  sprained  her  ankle. 

Later,  when  Melissy  was  watering  the  roses  be 
side  the  porch,  she  heard  the  name  of  Morse  men 
tioned  by  the  stock  detective.  He  seemed  to  be 
urging  upon  her  father  some  course  of  action  at 
which  the  latter  demurred.  The  girl  knew  a  vague 
unrest.  Lee  did  not  need  his  anger  against  Morse 
incensed.  For  months  she  had  been  trying  to  allay 
rather  than  increase  this.  If  Philip  Norris  had  come 
to  stir  up  smoldering  fires,  she  would  give  him  a 
piece  of  her  mind. 

The  men  were  still  together  when  Melissy  told 
her  father  good-night.  If  she  had  known  that  a 
whisky  bottle  passed  back  and  forth  a  good  many 
times  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  the  fears  of  the 
girl  would  not  have  been  lightened.  She  knew  that 
in  the  somber  moods  following  a  drinking  bout  the 
lawlessness  of  Beauchamp  Lee  was  most  likely  to 
crop  out. 

As  for  the  girl,  now  night  had  fallen — that  won 
drous  velvet  night  of  Arizona,  which  blots  out  gar- 
ish  day  with  a  cloak  of  violet,  purple-edged  where 
the  hills  rise  vaguely  in  the  distance,  and  softens 
magically  all  harsh  details  beneath  the  starry  vault 
— she  slipped  out  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge  in  the 
big  pasture,  climbing  lightly,  with  the  springy  oase 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


born  of  the  vigor  her  nineteen  outdoor  years  had 
stored  in  the  strong  young  body.  She  wanted  to 
be  alone,  to  puzzle  out  what  the  coming  of  this  man 
meant  to  her.  Had  he  intended  anything  by  that 
last  drawling  remark  of  his  in  the  store?  Why  was 
it  that  his  careless,  half  insulting  familiarity  set  the 
blood  leaping  through  her  like  wine?  He  lured  her 
to  the  sex  duel,  then  trampled  down  her  reserves 
rough-shod.  His  bold  assurance  stung  her  to  anger, 
but  there  was  a  something  deeper  than  anger  that 
left  her  flushed  and  tingling. 

Both  men  slept  late,  but  Norris  was  down  first. 
He  found  Melissy  superintending  a  drive  of  sheep 
which  old  Antonio,  the  herder,  was  about  to  make 
to  the  trading-post  at  Three  Pines.  She  was  on 
her  pony  near  the  entrance  to  the  corral,  her  slender, 
lithe  figure  sitting  in  a  boy's  saddle  with  a  business 
like  air  he  could  not  help  but  admire.  The  gate 
bars  had  been  lifted  and  the  dog  was  winding  its 
way  among  the  bleating  gray  mass,  which  began 
to  stir  uncertainly  at  its  presence.  The  sheep  drib 
bled  from  the  corral  by  ones  and  twos  until  the 
procession  swelled  to  a  swollen  stream  that  poured 
forth  in  a  torrent.  Behind  them  came  Antonio  in 
his  sombrero  and  blanket,  who  smiled  at  his  mis 
tress,  shouted  an  "Adios,  senorita"  and  disappeared 
into  the  yellow  dust  cloud  which  the  herd  left  in  its 
wake. 

"How  does  Champ  like  being  in  the  sheep  busi 
ness,"  Norris  said  to  the  girl. 


70  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Melissy  did  not  remove  her  eyes  from  the  vanish 
ing  herd,  but  a  slight  frown  puckered  her  forehead. 
She  chose  to  take  this  as  a  criticism  of  her  father 
and  to  resent  it. 

"Why  shouldn't  he  be?"  she  said  quietly, 
answering  the  spirit  of  his  remark. 

"I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,"  he  protested,  with 
his  frank  laugh. 

"Then  if  you  didn't  mean  it  so,  I  shan't  take  it 
that  way ;"  and  her  smile  met  his. 

"Here's  how  I  look  at  this  sheep  business.  Some 
ranges  are  better  adapted  for  sheep  than  cattle,  and 
you  can't  keep  Mary's  little  lamb  away  from  those 
places.  No  use  for  a  man  to  buck  against  the  thing 
that's  bound  to  be.  Better  get  into  the  band-wagon 
and  ride." 

"That's  what  father  thought,"  the  girl  confessed. 
"He  never  would  have  been  the  man  to  bring  sheep 
in,  but  after  they  got  into  the  country  he  saw  it  was 
a  question  of  whether  he  was  going  to  get  the  gov 
ernment  reserve  range  for  his  sheep,  or  another 
man,  some  new-comer  like  Mr.  Morse,  for  his.  It 
was  going  to  be  sheep  anyhow." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  your  father  took  the  chance  he 
saw."  He  added  reminiscently :  "We  got  to  be 
right  good  friends  again  last  night  before  we 
parted." 

She  took  the  opening  directly.  "If  you're  so  good 
a  friend  of  his,  you  must  not  excite  him  about  Mr. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  71 

Morse.  You  know  he's  a  Southerner,  and  he  is 
likely  to  do  something  rash — something  we  shall 
all  be  sorry  for  afterward." 

"I  reckon  that  will  be  all  right,"  he  said  evasively. 

Her  eyes  swept  to  his.  "You  won't  get  father 
into  trouble  will  you?" 

The  warm,  affectionate  smile  came  back  to  his 
face,  so  that  as  he  looked  at  her  he  seemed  a  sun- 
god.  But  again  there  was  something  in  his  gaze 
that  was  not  the  frankness  of  a  comrade,  some 
smoldering  fire  that  strangely  stirred  her  blood  and 
yet  left  her  uneasy. 

"I'm  not  liable  to  bring  trouble  to  those  you  love, 
girl.  I  stand  by  my  friends." 

Her  pony  began  to  move  toward  the  house,  and 
he  strode  beside,  as  debonair  and  gallant  a  figure  as 
ever  filled  the  eye  and  the  heart  of  a  woman.  The 
morning  sun  glow  irradiated  him,  found  its  spark 
ling  reflection  in  the  dark  curls  of  his  bare  head, 
in  the  bloom  of  his  tanned  cheeks,  made  a  fit  setting 
for  the  graceful  picture  of  lingering  youth  his  slim, 
muscular  figure  and  springy  stride  personified. 
Small  wonder  the  untaught  girl  beside  him  found 
the  merely  physical  charm  of  him  fascinating.  If 
her  instinct  sometimes  warned  her  to  beware,  her 
generous  heart  was  eager  to  pay  small  heed  to  the 
monition  except  so  far  as  concerned  her  father. 

After  breakfast  he  came  into  the  office  to  see  her 
before  he  left. 


72  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Good-by  for  a  da}''  or  two/'  he  said,  offering 
3iis  hand. 

"You're  coming  back  again,  are  you?"  she  asked 
'.quietly,  but  not  without  a  deeper  dye  in  her  cheeks. 

"Yes,  I'm  coming  back.  Will  you  be  glad  to  see 
vine?" 

"Why  should  I  be  glad?  I  hardly  know  you 
these  days." 

"You'll  know  me  better  before  we're  through 
with  each  other." 

She  would  acknowledge  no  interest  in  him,  the 
less  because  she  knew  it  was  there.  "I  may  do  that 
without  liking  you  better." 

And  suddenly  his  swift,  winning  smile  flashed 
upon  her.  "But  you've  got  to  like  me.  I  want 
you  to." 

"Do  you  get  everything  you  want?"  she  smiled 
back. 

"If  I  want  it  enough,  I  usually  do." 

"Then  since  you  get  so  much,  you'll  be  better  able 
to  do  without  my  liking." 

"I'm  going  to  have  it  too." 

"Don't  be  too  sure."  She  had  a  feeling  that 
things  were  moving  too  fast,  and  she  hailed  the 
appearance  of  her  father  with  relief.  "Good  morn 
ing,  dad.  Did  you  sleep  well?  Mr.  Norris  is  just 
leaving." 

"Wait  till  I  git  a  bite  o'  breakfast  and  I'll  go  with 
you,  Phil,"  promised  Lee.  "I  got  to  ride  over  to 
Mesa  anyhow  some  time  this  week." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  73 

The  girl  watched  them  ride  away,  taking  the  road 
gait  so  characteristic  of  the  Southwest.  As  long 
as  they  were  in  sight  her  gaze  followed  them,  and 
when  she  could  see  nothing  but  a  wide  cloud  of 
dust  travelling  across  the  mesa  she  went  up  to  her 
room  and  sat  down  to  think  it  out.  Something  new 
had  come  into  her  life.  What,  she  did  not  yet  know, 
but  she  tried  to  face  the  fact  with  the  elemental 
frankness  that  still  made  her  more  like  a  boy  than 
a  woman.  Sitting  there  before  the  looking-glass, 
she  played  absently  with  the  thick  braid  of  heavy, 
blue-black  hair  which  hung  across  her  shoulder  to 
the  waist.  It  came  to  her  for  the  first  time  to 
wonder  if  she  was  pretty,  whether  she  was  going  to 
be  one  of  the  women  that  men  desire.  Without  the 
least  vanity  she  studied  herself,  appraised  the  soft 
brown  cheeks  framed  with  ebon  hair,  the  steady, 
dark  eyes  so  quick  to  passion  and  to  gaiety,  the 
bronzed  throat  full  and  rounded,  the  supple,  flowing 
grace  of  the  unrestrained  body. 

Gradually  a  wave  of  color  crept  into  her  cheeks 
as  she  sat  there  with  her  chin  on  her  little  doubled 
hand.  It  was  the  charm  of  this  Apollo  of  the  plains 
that  had  set  free  such  strange  thoughts  in  her  head. 
Why  should  she  think  of  him  ?  What  did  it  matter 
whether  she  was  good-looking?  She  shook  herself 
resolutely  together  and  went  down  to  the  business 
of  the  day. 

It  was  not  long  after  midnight  the  next  day  that 
Champ  Lee,  reached  the  ranch.  His  daughter  came 


74       BRAND    BLOTTERS 

out  from  her  room  in  her  night-dress  to  meet  him. 

"What  kept  you,  Daddy?"  she  asked. 

But  before  he  could  answer  she  knew.  She  read 
the  signs  too  clearly  to  doubt  that  he  had  been 
drinking. 


CHAPTER  VI 
"HANDS  UP  !" 

MELISSY  had  been  up  the  Can  del  Oro 
for  wild  poppies  in  her  runabout  and  had 
just  reached  the  ranch.  She  was  disposing 
of  her  flowers  in  ollas  when  Jim  Budd,  waiter, 
chambermaid,  and  odd  jobs  man  at  the  Bar  Double 
G,  appeared  in  the  hall  with  a  frightened,  mys 
terious  face. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jim?  You  and  Hop  Ling 
been  quarrelling  again?"  she  asked  carelessly. 

"No'm,  that  ain't  it.  It's  wusser'n  that.  I  got 
to  tell  you-all  su'thin'  I  hearn  yore  paw  say." 

The  girl  looked  up  quickly  at  him.  "What  do 
you  mean,  Jim?" 

"That  Mistah  Norris  he  come  back  whilst  you 
wus  away,  and  him  and  yore  paw  wus  in  that  back 
room  a-talkin'  mighty  confidential." 

"Yes,  and  you  listened.     Well?" 

Jim  swelled  with  offended  dignity.  "No'm,  I; 
didn't  listen  neither.  I  des  natcherally  hearn,  'count 
of  that  hole  fer  the  stovepipe  what  comes  through 
the  floor  of  my  room." 

"But  what  was  it  you  heard?"  she  interrupted 
impatiently. 


76 BRAND    BLOTTERS       

"I  wus  a-comin'  to  that  Plum  proverdenshul,  I 
draps  into  my  room  des  as  yore  paw  wus  sayin', 
'Twenty  thousand  dollars  goin'  down  to  the  Fort 
on  the  stage  to-day?'  'Cose  I  pricks  up  my  ears 
then  and  tuk  it  all  in.  This  yere  Norris  had  foun* 
out  that  Mistah  Morse  was  shippin'  gold  from  his 
mine  to-day  on  the  Fort  Allison  stage,  and  he  gits 
yore  paw  to  go  in  with  him  an'  hold  it  up.  Yore 
paw  cussed  and  said  as  how  't  wus  his  gold  anyhow 
by  rights." 

The  girl  went  white  and  gave  a  little  broken  cry. 
"Oh,  Jim!  Are  you  sure?" 

"Yas'm,  'cose  I'm  suah.  Them's  his  ve'y  words. 
Hope  to  die  if  they  ain't.  They  wus  drinkin',  and 
when  't  wus  all  fixed  up  that  't  wus  to  be  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Box  Canon  they  done  tore  an  old 
black  shirt  you  got  for  a  dust-rag  and  made  masks 
out  of  it  and  then  rode  away." 

"Which  way  did  they  go?" 

"Tow'ds  the  Box  Canon,  Miss  -Mlissy." 

A  slender,  pallid  figure  of  despair,  she  leaned 
against  the  wall  to  support  the  faintness  that  had 
so  suddenly  stolen  the  strength  from  her  limbs, 
trying  desperately  to  think  of  some  way  to  save  her 
father  from  this  madness.  She  was  sure  he  would 
bungle  it  and  be  caught  eventually,  and  she  was 
equally  sure  he  would  never  let  himself  be  taken 
alive.  Her  helplessness  groped  for  some  way  out. 
There  must  be  some  road  of  escape  from  this  hor- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  77 

rible  situation,  and  as  she  sought  blindly  for  it  the 
path  opened  before  her. 

"Where  is  Hop  ?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"A-sleepin'  in  his  room,  ma'am." 

"Go  to  the  store  and  tend  it  till  I  come  back,  Jim. 
I  may  be  an  hour,  or  mebbe  two,  but  don't  you  move 
out  of  it  for  a  moment.  And  don't  ever  speak  of 
any  of  this,  not  a  word,  Jim." 

"No'm,  'cose  I  won't." 

His  loyalty  she  did  not  doubt  an  instant,  though 
she  knew  his  simple  writs  might  easily  be  led  to 
indiscretion.  But  she  did  not  stay  to  say  more 
now,  but  flew  upstairs  to  the  room  that  had  been 
her  brother's  before  he  left  home.  Scarce  five  min 
utes  elapsed  before  she  reappeared  transformed.  It 
was  a  slim  youth  garbed  as  a  cowpuncher  that  now 
slipped  along  the  passage  to  the  rear,  softly  opened 
the  door  of  the  cook's  room,  noiselessly  abstracted 
the  key,  closed  the  door  again  as  gently,  and  locked 
it  from  the  outside.  She  ran  into  her  own  room, 
strapped  on  her  revolver  belt,  and  took  her  empty 
rifle  from  its  case.  As  she  ran  through  the  room 
below  the  one  Jim  occupied,  she  caught  sight  of  a 
!  black  rag  thrown  carelessly  into  the  fireplace  and 
stuffed  it  into  her  pocket. 

"That's  just  like  Dad  to  leave  evidence  lying 
around,"  she  said  to  herself,  for  even  in  the  anxiety 
that  was  flooding  her  she  kept  her  quiet  common- 
sense. 

After  searching  the  horizon  carefully  to  see  that 


78   BRAND    BLOTTERS 

nobody  was  in  sight,  she  got  into  the  rig  and  drove 
round  the  corral  to  the  irrigating  ditch.  This  was 
a  wide  lateral  of  the  main  canal,  used  to  supply  the 
whole  lower  valley  with  water,  and  just  now  it  was 
empty.  Melissy  drove  down  into  its  sandy  bed  and 
followed  its  course  as  rapidly  as  she  could.  If  she 
were  only  in  time!  If  the  stage  had  not  yet  passed! 
That  was  her  only  fear,  the  dread  of  being  too  late. 
Not  once  did  the  risk  of  the  thing  she  intended 
occur  to  her.  Physical  fear  had  never  been  part  of 
her.  She  had  done  the  things  her  brother  Dick  had 
done.  She  was  a  reckless  rider,  a  good  shot,  could 
tramp  the  hills  or  follow  the  round-up  all  day  with 
out  knowing  fatigue.  If  her  flesh  still  held  its  girl 
ish  curves  and  softness,  the  muscles  underneath 
were  firm  and  compact.  Often  for  her  own  amuse 
ment  and  that  of  her  father  she  had  donned  her 
brother's  chaps,  his  spurs,  sombrero,  and  other  para 
phernalia,  to  masquerade  about  the  house  in  them. 
She  had  learned  to  imitate  the  long  roll  of  the 
vaquero's  stride,  the  mannerisms  common  to  his 
class,  and  even  the  heavy  voice  of  a  man.  More 
than  once  she  had  passed  muster  as  a  young  man 
in  the  shapeless  garments  she  was  now  wearing. 
She  felt  confident  that  the  very  audacity  of  the  thing 
would  carry  it  off.  There  would  be  a  guard  for  the 
treasure  box,  of  course,  but  if  all  worked  well  he 
could  be  taken  by  surprise.  Her  rifle  was  not  loaded, 
but  the  chances  were  a  hundred  to  one  that  she 
would  not  need  to  use  it. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 79 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  roan  got  the 
whip  from  his  mistress. 

"Git  up,  Bob.  We've  got  to  hurry.  It's  for 
dad,"  she  cried,  as  they  raced  through  the  sand 
and  sent  it  flying  from  the  wheels. 

The  Fort  Allison  stage  passed  within  three  miles 
of  the  Lee  ranch  on  its  way  to  Mesa.  Where  the 
road  met  in  intersection  with  the  ditch  she  had 
chosen  as  the  point  for  stopping  it,  and  no  veteran 
at  the  business  could  have  selected  more  wisely,  for 
a  reason  which  will  hereafter  appear.  Some  fifty 
yards  below  this  point  of  intersection  the  ditch  ran 
through  a  grove  of  cottonwoods  fringing  the  bank. 
Here  the  banks  sloped  down  more  gradually,  and 
Melissy  was  able  to  drive  up  one  side,  turn  her  rig 
so  that  the  horse  faced  the  other  way,  and  draw 
down  into  the  ditch  again  in  order  that  the  runabout 
could  not  be  seen  from  the  road.  Swiftly  and  skil 
fully  she  obliterated  the  track  she  had  made  in  the 
sandy  bank. 

She  was  just  finishing  this  when  the  sound  of 
wheels  came  to  her.  Rifle  in  hand,  she  ran  back 
along  the  ditch,  stooping  to  pass  under  the  bridge, 
ind  waited  at  the  farther  side  in  a  fringe  of  bushes 
for  the  coming  of  the  stage. 

Even  now  fear  had  no  place  in  the  excitement 
which  burned  high  in  her.  The  girl's  wits  were 
fully  alert,  and  just  in  time  she  remembered  the 
need  of  a  mask.  Her  searching  fingers  found  the 
torn  black  shirt  in  a  pocket  and  a  knife  in  another. 


80  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Hastily  she  ripped  the  linen  in  half,  cut  out  eyeholes, 
and  tied  the  mask  about  her  head.  With  perfectly 
steady  hands  she  picked  up  the  rifle  from  the  ground 
and  pushed  the  muzzle  of  it  through  the  bushes. 

Leisurely  the  stage  rolled  up-grade  toward  the 
crossing.  The  Mexican  driver  was  half  asleep  and1 
the  "shotgun  messenger"  was  indolently  rolling  a 
cigarette,  his  sawed-off  gun  between  his  knees. 
Alan  McKinstra  was  the  name  of  this  last  young 
gentleman.  Only  yesterday  he  had  gone  to  work 
for  Morse,  and  this  was  the  first  job  that  had  been 
given  him.  The  stage  never  had  been  held  up  since 
the  "Monte  Cristo"  had  struck  its  pay-streak,  and 
there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  it  would  be.  Never 
theless,  Morse  proposed  to  err  on  the  side  of  caution. 

"I  reckon  the  man  that  holds  down  this  job  don't 
earn  his  salt,  Jose.  It's  what  they  call  a  sinecure," 
Alan  was  saying  at  the  very  instant  the  summons 
came. 

"Throw  up  your  hands!" 

Sharp  and  crisp  it  fell  on  Alan's  ears.  He  sat  for 
a  moment  stunned,  the  half-rolled  cigarette  still 
between  his  ringers.  The  driver  drew  up  his  four 
horses  with  a  jerk  and  brought  them  to  a  huddled 
halt. 

"Hands  up !"  came  again  the  stinging  imperative. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  it  reached  Alan's  con 
sciousness  that  the  stage  was  actually  being  held 
up.  He  saw  the  sun  shining  on  the  barrel  of  a  rifle 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 81 

and  through  the  bushes  the  masked  face  of  a  hidden 
cowpuncher.  His  first  swift  instinct  was  to  give 
battle,  and  he  reached  for  the  shotgun  between  his 
knees.  Simultaneously  the  driver's  foot  gave  it  a 
push  and  sent  the  weapon  clattering  to  the  ground. 
Jose  at  least  knew  better  than  to  let  him  draw  the 
road  agent's  fire  while  he  sat  within  a  foot  of  the 
driver.  His  hands  went  into  the  air,  and  after  his 
Alan's  and  those  of  the  two  passengers. 

"Throw  down  that  box." 

Alan  lowered  his  hands  and  did  as  directed. 

"Now  reach  for  the  stars  again." 

McKinstra's  arms  went  skyward.  Without  his 
weapon,  he  was  helpless  to  do  otherwise.  The 
young  man  had  an  odd  sense  of  unreality  about  the 
affair,  a  feeling  that  it  was  not  in  earnest.  The 
timbre  of  the  fresh  young  voice  that  came  from 
the  bushes  struck  a  chord  in  his  memory,  though 
for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  place  its  owner. 

"Drive  on,  Jose.  Burn  the  wind  and  keep  a-rollin' 
south." 

The  Mexican's  whip  coiled  over  the  head  of  the 
leaders  and  the  broncos  sprang  forward  with  a 
jump.  It  was  the  summit  of  a  long  hill,  on  the 
edge  of  which  wound  the  road.  Until  the  stage 
reached  the  foot  of  it  there  would  be  no  opportunity 
to  turn  back.  Round  a  bend  of  the  road  it  swung 
at  a  gallop,  and  the  instant  it  disappeared  Melissy 
leaped  from  the  bushes,  lifted  the  heavy  box,  and 
carried  it  to  the  edge  of  the  ditch.  She  flew  down 


82  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

the  sandy  bottom  to  the  place  where  the  rig  stood, 
drove  swiftly  back  again,  and,  though  it  took  the 
last  ounce  of  strength  in  her,  managed  to  tumble 
the  box  into  the  trap. 

Back  to  the  road  she  went,  and  from  the  place 
where  the  box  had  fallen  made  long  strides  back 
to  the  bushes  where  she  had  been  standing  at  the 
moment  of  the  hold-up.  These  tracks  she  purposely 
made  deep  and  large,  returning  in  her  first  ones  to 
the  same  point,  but  from  the  marks  where  the  falling 
treasure  box  had  struck  into  the  road  she  carefully 
obliterated  with  her  hand  the  foot-marks  leading 
to  the  irrigation  ditch,  sifting  the  sand  in  carefully 
so  as  to  leave  no  impression.  This  took  scarcely 
a  minute.  She  was  soon  back  in  her  runabout, 
driving  homeward  fast  as  whip  and  voice  could 
urge  the  horse. 

She  thought  she  could  reason  out  what  McKinstra 
and  the  stage-driver  would  do.  Mesa  was  twenty- 
five  miles  distant,  the  "Monte  Cristo"  mine  seven 
teen.  Nearer  than  these  points  there  was  no  tele 
phone  station  except  the  one  at  the  Lee  ranch.  Their 
first  thought  would  be  to  communicate  with  Morse, 
with  the  officers  at  Mammoth,  and  with  the  sheriff 
of  Mesa  County.  To  do  this  as  soon  as  possible 
they  would  turn  aside  and  drive  to  the  ranch  after 
they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill  and  could  make 
the  turn.  It  was  a  long,  steep  hill,  and  Melissy 
estimated  that  this  would  give  her  a  start  of  nearly 
twenty  minutes.  She  would  save  about  half  a  mile 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


by  following  the  ditch  instead  of  the  road,  but  at 
best  she  knew  she  was  drawing  it  very  fine. 

She  never  afterward  liked  to  think  of  that  drive 
home.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Bob  crawled  and  that 
the  heavy  sand  was  interminable.  Feverishly  she 
plied  the  whip,  and  when  at  length  she  drew  out 
of  the  ditch  she  sent  her  horse  furiously  round  the 
big  corral.  Though  she  had  planned  everything 
to  the  last  detail,  she  knew  that  any  one  of  a  hundred 
contingencies  might  spoil  her  plan.  A  cow-puncher 
lounging  about  the  place  would  have  ruined  every 
thing,  or  at  best  interfered  greatly.  But  the  wind 
mill  clicked  over  sunlit  silence,  empty  of  life.  No 
stir  or  movement  showed  the  presence  of  any  human 
being. 

Melissy  drove  round  to  the  side  door,  dumped  out 
the  treasure-box,  ran  into  the  house,  and  quickly 
returned  with  a  hammer  and  some  tacks,  then  fell 
swiftly  to  ripping  the  oilcloth  that  covered  the 
box  which  stood  against  the  wall  to  serve  as  a  handy 
wash-stand  for  use  by  dusty  travellers  before  dining. 
The  two  boxes  were  of  the  same  size  and  shape, 
and  she  draped  the  treasure  chest  with  the  cloth, 
tacked  it  in  place,  restored  to  the  top  of  it  the  tin 
basin,  and  tossed  the  former  wash-stand  among  a 
pile  of  old  boxes  from  the  store,  that  were  to  be 
used  for  kindling.  After  this  she  ran  upstairs, 
scudded  softly  along  the  corridor,  and  silently 
unlocked  the  cook's  door,  dropping  the  key  on  the 
floor  to  make  it  appear  as  if  something  had  shaken 


34  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

it  from  the  keyhole.  Presently  she  was  in  her 
brother's  room,  doffing  his  clothes  and  dressing 
herself  in  her  own. 

A  glance  out  of  the  window  sapped  the  color 
from  her  cheek,  for  she  saw  the  stage  breasting  the 
hill  scarce  two  hundred  yards  from  the  house.  She 
hurried  downstairs,  pinning  her  belt  as  she  ran,  and 
flashed  into  the  store,  where  Jim  sat  munching 
peanuts. 

"The  stage  is  coming,  Jim.  Remember,  you're 
not  to  know  anything  about  it  at  all.  If  the}'  ask 
for  Dad,  say  he's  out  cutting  trail  of  a  bunch  of  hill 
cows.  Tell  them  I  started  after  the  wild  flowers 
about  fifteen  minutes  ago.  Don't  talk  much  about  it, 
though.  I'll  be  back  inside  of  an  hour." 

With  that  she  was  gone,  back  to  her  trap,  which 
she  swung  along  a  trail  back  of  the  house  till  it  met 
the  road  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above.  Her  actions 
must  have  surprised  steady  old  Bob,  for  he  certainly 
never  before  had  seen  his  mistress  in  such  a  des 
perate  hurry  as  she  had  been  this  day  and  still  was. 
Nearly  a  mile  above,  a  less  well  defined  track 
deflected  from  the  main  road.  Into  this  she  turned, 
following  it  until  she  came  to  the  head-gates  of  the 
lateral  which  ran  through  their  place.  The  main 
canal  was  full  of  water,  and  after  some  effort  she 
succeeded  in  opening  the  head-gates  so  as  to  let  the 
water  go  pouring  through. 

Returning  to  the  runabout,  the  girl  drove  across 
a  kkkl  of  natural  meadow  to  a  hillside  not  far  dis- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  85 

tant,  gathered  a  double  handful  of  wild  flowers,  and 
turned  homeward  again.  The  stage  was  still  there 
when  she  came  in  sight  of  the  group  of  buildings 
at  the  ranch. 

As  she  drew  up  and  dismounted  with  her  armful 
of  flowers,  Alan  McKinstra  stepped  from  the  store 
to  the  porch  and  came  forward  to  assist  her. 

"The  Fort  Allison  stage  has  been  robbed,"  he 
blurted  out. 

"What  nonsense!  Who  would  want  to  rob  it?" 
she  retorted. 

"Morse  had  a  gold  shipment  aboard,"  he  explained 
in  a  low  voice,  and  added  in  bitter  self-condemna 
tion:  "He  sent  me  along  to  guard  it,  and  I  never 
even  fired  a  shot  to  save  it." 

"But — do  you  mean  that  somebody  held  up  the 
stage?"  she  gasped. 

"Yes.  But  whoever  it  was  can't  escape.  I've 
'phoned  to  Jack  Flatray  and  to  Morse.  They'll  be 
right  out  here.  The  sheriff  of  Mesa  County  has 
already  started  with  a  posse.  They'll  track  him 
down.  That's  a  cinch.  He  can't  get  away  with 
the  box  without  a  rig.  If  he  busts  the  box,  he's 
got  to  carry  it  on  a  horse  and  a  horse  leaves  tracks." 

"But  who  do  you  think  it  was?" 

"Don't  know.  One  of  the  Roaring  Fork  bunch 
of  bad  men,  likely.  But  I  don't  know." 

The  young  man  was  plainly  very  much  excited 
and  disturbed.  He  walked  nervously  up  and  down, 


86  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

jerking  his  sentences  out  piecemeal  as  he  thought 
of  them. 

"Was  there  only  one  man?  And  did  you  see 
him?"  Melissy  asked  breathlessly. 

He  scarcely  noticed  her  excitement,  or  if  he  did, 
it  seemed  to  him  only  natural  under  the  circum 
stances. 

"I  expect  there  were  more,  but  we  saw  only  one. 
Didn't  see  much  of  him.  He  was  screened  by  the 
bushes  and  wore  a  black  mask.  So  long  as  the  stage 
was  in  sight  he  never  moved  from  that  place;  just 
stood  there  and  kept  us  covered." 

"But  how  could  he  rob  you  if  he  didn't  come 
out?"  she  asked  in  wide-eyed  innocence. 

"He  didn't  rob  us  any.  He  must  'a'  heard  of  the 
shipment  of  gold,  and  that's  what  he  was  after. 
After  he'd  got  us  to  rights  he  made  me  throw  the 
box  down  in  the  road.  That's  where  it  was  when 
he  ordered  us  to  move  on  and  keep  agoing." 

"And  you  went?" 

"Jose  handled  the  lines,  but  't  would  'a'  been  the 
same  if  I'd  held  them.  That  gun  of  his  was  a  right 
powerful  persuader."  He  stopped  to  shake  a  fist 
in  impotent  fury  in  the  air.  "I  wish  to  God  I  could 
meet  up  with  him  some  day  when  he  didn't  have 
the  drop  on  me." 

"Maybe  you  will  some  time,"  she  told  him  sooth 
ingly.  "I  don't  think  you're  a  bit  to  blame,  Alan. 
Nobody  could  think  so.  Ever  so  many  times  I've 
heard  Dad  say  that  when  a  man  gets  the  drop  on 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  87 

you  there's  nothing  to  do  but  throw  up  your  hands." 

"Do  you  honest  think  so,  Melissy?  Or  are  you 
just  saying  it  to  take  the  sting  away?  Looks  like 
I  ought  to  'a'  done  something  mor'n  sit  there  like  a 
bump  on  a  log  while  he  walked  off  with  the  gold." 

His  cheerful  self-satisfaction  was  under  eclipse. 
The  boyish  pride  of  him  was  wounded.  He  had 
not  "made  good."  All  over  Cattleland  the  news 
would  be  wafted  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  that 
Alan  McKinstra,  while  acting  as  shotgun  messenger 
to  a  gold  shipment,  had  let  a  road  agent  hold  him 
up  for  the  treasure  he  was  guarding. 

"Very  likely  they'll  catch  him  and  get  the  gold 
back,"  she  suggested. 

"That  won't  do  me  any  good,"  he  returned 
gloomily.  "The  only  thing  that  can  help  me  now 
is  for  me  to  git  the  fellow  myself,  and  I  might  just 
as  well  look  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack." 

"You  can't  tell.  The  robber  may  be  right  round 
here  now."  Her  eyes,  shining  with  excitement, 
passed  the  crowd  moving  in  and  out  of  the 'store, 
for  already  the  news  of  the  hold-up  had  brought 
riders  and  ranchmen  jogging  in  to  learn  the  truth 
of  the  wild  tale  that  had  reached  them. 

"More  likely  he's  twenty  miles  away.  But  who 
ever  he  is,  he  knows  this  county.  He  made  a  slip 
and  called  Jose  by  his  name." 

Melissy's  gaze  was  turned  to  the  dust  whirl  that 
advanced  up  the  road  that  ran  round  the  corral. 
''That  doesn't  prove  anything,  Alan.  Everybody 


88  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

knows  Jose.  He's  lived  all  over  Arizona — at  Tuc 
son  and  Tombstone  and  Douglas." 

"That's  right  too,"  the  lad  admitted. 

The  riders  in  advance  of  the  dust  cloud  resolved 
themselves  into  the  persons  of  her  father  and 
Norris.  Her  incautious  admission  was  already 
troubling  her. 

"But  I'm  sure  you're  right.  No  hold-up  with 
any  sense  would  stay  around  here  and  wait  to  be 
caught.  He's  probably  gone  up  into  the  Galiuros 
to  hide." 

"Unless  he's  cached  the  gold  and  is  trying  to 
throw  off  suspicion/' 

The  girl  had  moved  forward  to  the  end  of  the 
house  with  Alan  to  meet  her  father.  At  that 
instant,  by  the  ironic  humor  of  chance,  her  glance 
fell  upon  a  certain  improvised  wash-stand  covered 
with  oilcloth.  She  shook  her  head  decisively.  "No, 
he  won't  risk  waiting  to  do  that.  He'll  make  sure 
of  his  escape  first." 

"I  reckon." 

"Have  you  heard,  Daddy?"  Melissy  called  out 
eagerly.  She  knew  she  must  play  the  part  expected 
of  her,  that  of  a  young  girl  much  interested  in  this 
adventure  which  had  occurred  in  the  community. 

He  nodded  grimly,  swinging  from  the  saddle. 
She  observed  with  surprise  that  his  eye  did  not  meet 
hers.  This  was  not  like  him. 

"What  do  you  think?" 

His  gaze  met  that  of  Norris  before  he  answered, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  89 

and  there  was  ia  it  some  hint  of  a  great  fear. 
"Beats  me,  'Lissy." 

He  had  told  the  simple  truth,  but  not  the  whole 
truth.  The  men  had  waited  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Box  Canon  for  nearly  two  hours  without  the  arrival 
of  the  stage.  Deciding  that  something  must  have 
happened,  they  started  back,  and  presently  met  a 
Mexican  who  stopped  to  tell  them  the  news.  To 
say  that  they  were  dazed  is  to  put  it  mildly.  To 
expect  them  to  believe  that  somebody  else  had  heard 
of  the  secret  shipment  and  had  held  up  the  stage 
two  miles  from  the  place  they  had  chosen,  was  to 
ask  a  credulity  too  simple.  Yet  this  was  the  fact 
that  confronted  them. 

Arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  robbery  both  men 
had  dismounted  and  had  examined  the  ground 
t&oroughly.  What  they  saw  tended  still  more  to 
bewilder  them.  Neither  of  them  was  a  tenderfoot, 
and  the  little  table  at  the  summit  of  the  long  hill 
told  a  very  tangled  tale  to  those  who  had  eyes  to 
read.  Obvious  tracks  took  them  at  once  to  the 
spot  where  the  bandit  had  stood  in  the  bushes,  but 
there  was  something  about  them  that  struck  both 
men  as  suspicious. 

"Looks  like  these  are  worked  out  on  purpose," 
commented  Lee.  "The  guy's  leaving  too  easy  a 
trail  to  follow,  and  it  quits  right  abrupt  in  the 
boshes.  Must  V  took  an  airship  from  here,  I  'low." 

"Does  look  funny.     Hello!    What's  this?" 


90  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Norris  had  picked  up  a  piece  of  black  cloth  and 
was  holding  it  out.  A  startled  oath  slipped  from 
the  lips  of  the  Southerner.  He  caught  the  rag  from 
the  hands  of  his  companion  and  studied  it  with  a 
face  of  growing  astonishment. 

"What's  up?" 

Lee  dived  into  his  pocket  and  drew  forth  the 
mask  he  had  been  wearing.  Silently  he  fitted  it  to 
the  other.  The  pieces  matched  exactly,  both  hi 
length  and  in  the  figure  of  the  pattern. 

When  the  Southerner  looked  up  his  hands  were 
shaking  and  his  face  ashen. 

"For  God's  sake,  Phil,  what  does  this  mean?" 
he  cried  hoarsely. 

"Search  me." 

"It  must  have  been — looks  like  the  hold-up  was 
somebody — my  God,  man,  we  left  this  rag  at  the 
ranch  when  we  started!"  the  rancher  whispered. 

"That's  right" 

"We  planned  this  thing  right  under  the  nigger's 

room.  He  must  'a'  heard  and But  it  don't 

look  like  Jim  Budd  to  do  a  thing  like  that." 

Norris  had  crossed  the  road  again  and  was  stand 
ing  on  the  edge  of  the  lateral. 

"Hello !  This  ditch  is  full  of  water.  When  we 
passed  down  it  was  empty,"  he  said. 

Lee  crossed  over  and  stood  by  his  side,  a  puzzled 
frown  on  his  face.  "There  hadn't  ought  to  be  water 
running  hyer  now,"  he  said,  as  if  to  himself.  "I 
don't  see  how  it  could  'a'  come  hyer,  for  Bill  Weston 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 91 

— he's  the  ditch  rider — went  to  Mesa  this  mo'ning, 
and  couldn't  'a'  got  back  to  turn  it  in." 

The  younger  man  stooped  and  examined  a  loot- 
print  at  the  edge  of  the  ditch.  It  was  the  one 
vMelissy  had  made  just  as  she  stepped  into  the  rig. 

"Here's  something  new,  Lee.  We  haven't  seen 
this  gentleman's  track  before.  Looks  like  a  boy's. 
It's  right  firm  and  deep  in  this  soft  ground.  I'll 
bet  a  cooky  your  nigger  never  made  that  track." 

The  Southerner  crouched  down  beside  him,  and 
they  looked  at  it  together,  head  to  head. 

"No,  it  ain't  Jim's.  I  don't  rightly  savez  this 
thing  at  all,"  the  old  man  muttered,  troubled  at  this 
mystery  which  seemed  to  point  to  his  household. 

"By  Moses,  I've  got  it!  The  guy  who  did  the 
holding  up  had  his  horse  down  here.  He  loaded  the 
sack  on  its  back  and  drove  off  up  the  ditch.  All 
we  got  to  do  is  follow  the  ditch  up  or  down  till  we 
come  to  the  place  where  he  climbed  out  and  struck 
across  country." 

"That's  right,  Phil.  He  must  have  had  a  pardner 
up  at  the  head-gates.  They  had  some  kind  of  signal 
arranged,  and  when  Mr.  Hold-up  was  ready  down 
icome  the  water  and  washed  out  his  tracks.  It's  a 
blame'  smooth  piece  of  business  if  you  ask  me." 

"The  fellow  made  two  bad  breaks,  though.  That 
piece  of  shirt  is  one.  This  foot-print  is  another. 
They  may  land  him  in  the  pen  yet." 

"I  don't  think  it,"  returned  the  old  man  with 
composure,  and  as  he  spoke  his  foot  erased  the  tell- 


92  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

tale  print.  "I  'low  there  won't  anybody  go  to  the 
pen  for  he'pin  himself  to  Mr.  Morse's  gold  dust. 
I  don't  give  a  cuss  who  it  was." 

Norris  laughed  in  his  low,  easy  way.     "I'm  with 
you,  Mr.  Lee.     We'll  make  a  thorough  job  while 
we're  at  it  and  mess  up  these  other  tracks.     After, 
that  we'll  follow  the  ditch  up  and  see  if  there's 
anything  doing." 

They  remounted  their  broncos  and  rode  them 
across  the  tracks  several  times,  then  followed  the 
lateral  up,  one  on  either  side  of  the  ditch,  their 
eyes  fastened  to  the  ground  to  see  any  evidence  of 
a  horse  having  clambered  over  the  bank.  They 
drew  in  sight  of  the  ranch  house  without  discover 
ing  what  they  were  looking  for.  Lee's  heart  was 
in  his  mouth,  for  he  knew  that  he  would  see  pres 
ently  what  his  eye  sought. 

"I  reckon  the  fellow  went  down  instead  of  up," 
suggested  Norris. 

"No,  he  came  up." 

Lee  had  stopped  and  was  studying  wheel  tracks 
that  ran  up  from  the  ditch  to  his  ranch  house.  His 
face  was  very  white  and  set.  He  pointed  to  them 
with  a  shaking  finger. 

"There's  where  he  went  in  the  ditch,  and  there's 
where  he  came  out." 

Norris  forded  the  stream,  cast  a  casual  eye  on 
the  double  track,  and  nodded.  He  was  still  in  a 
fog  of  mystery,  but  the  old  man  was  already  fear 
ing  the  worst. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  93 

He  gulped  out  his  fears  tremblingly.  For  himself, 
he  was  of  a  flawless  nerve,  but  this  touched  nearer 
home  than  his  own  danger. 

"Them  wheel-tracks  was  made  by  my  little 
gyurl's  runabout,  Phil." 

"Good  heavens!"  The  younger  man  drew  rein 
sharply  and  stared  at  him.  "You  don't  think " 

He  broke  off,  recalling  the  sharp,  firm  little  foot 
print  on  the  edge  of  the  ditch  some  miles  below. 

"I  don't  reckon  I  know  what  to  think.  If  she 
was  in  this,  she's  got  some  good  reason."  A  wave 
of  passion  suddenly  swept  the  father.  "By  God! 
I'd  like  to  see  the  man  that  dares  mix  her  name 
up  in  this." 

Norris  met  this  with  his  friendly  smile.  "You 
can't  pick  a  row  with  me  about  that,  old  man.  I'm 
with  you  till  the  cows  come  home.  But  that  ain't 
quite  the  way  to  go  at  this  business.  First  thing, 
we've  got  to  wipe  out  these  tracks.  How?  Why, 
sheep!  There's  a  bunch  of  three  hundred  in  that 
pasture.  We'll  drive  the  bunch  down  to  the  ditch 
and  water  them  here.  Savezf 

"And  wipe  out  the  wheel-marks  in  the  sand. 
Bully  for  you,  Phil." 

"That's  the  idea.  After  twelve  hundred  chisel 
feet  have  been  over  this  sand  I  reckon  the  wheel- 
tracks  will  be  missing." 

They  rode  up  to  the  house,  and  the  first  thing 
that  met  them  was  the  candid  question  of  the  girl: 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"Have  you  heard,  Daddy?" 

And  out  of  his  troubled  heart  he  had  answered, 
"Beats  me,  'Lissie." 

"They've  sent  for  the  officers.  Jack  Flatray  is 
on  the  way  himself.  So  is  Sheriff  Burke,"  volun 
teered  Alan  gloomily. 

"Getting  right  busy,  aint  they?"  Norris  sneered J 

Again  Lee  glanced  quickly  at  Norris.  "I  reckon,' 
Phil,  we  better  drive  that  bunch  of  sheep  down  to 
water  right  away.  I  clean  forgot  them  this 
mo'ning." 

"Sure."  The  younger  man  was  not  so  easily 
shaken.  He  turned  to  McKinstra  naturally.  "How 
many  of  the  hold-ups  were  there?" 

"I  saw  only  one,  and  didn't  see  him  very  good. 
He  was  a  slim  fellow  in  a  black  mask." 

"You  don't  say.     Were  you  the  driver?*' 

Alan  felt  the  color  suffuse  his  face.  "No,  I  was 
the  guard." 

"Oh,  you  were  the  guard." 

Alan  felt  the  suave  irony  that  covered  this  man's 
amusement,  and  he  resented  it  impotently.  When 
Melissy  came  to  his  support  he  was  the  more 
grateful. 

"And  we  all  think  he  did  just  right  in  using  his 
common  sense,  Mr.  Norris,"  the  girl  flashed. 

"Oh,  certainly." 

And  with  that  he  was  gone  after  her  father  to 
help  him  water  the  sheep. 

"I  don't  see  why  those  sheep  have  to  be  watered 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  95 

right  now,"  she  frowned  to  Alan.  "Dad  did  water 
them  this  morning.  I  helped  him." 

Together  they  went  into  the  store,  where  Jos£ 
was  telling  his  story  for  the  sixth  time  to  a  listening 
circle  of  plainsmen. 

"And  right  then  he  come  at  you  and  ree-quested 
yore  whole  outfit  to  poke  a  hole  in  the  scenery  with 
yore  front  feet?"  old  Dave  Ellis  asked  just  as 
Melissy  entered. 

"Si,  Senor." 

"One  of  MacQueen's  Roaring  Fork  gang  did  it, 
I'll  bet,"  Alan  contributed  sourly. 

"What  kind  of  a  lookin'  guy  was  he?"  spoke  up 
a  dark  young  man  known  as  Bob  Farnum. 

"A  big  man,  senor,  and  looked  a  ruffian." 

"They're  always  that  way  until  you  run  'em 
"down,"  grinned  Ellis.  "Never  knew  a  hold-up 
wasn't  eight  foot  high  and  then  some — to  the  fel 
low  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  gun." 

"If  you  mean  to  say,  Dave  Ellis,  that  I  lay  down 

to  a  bluff "  Alan  was  beginning  hotly  when  the 

old  frontiersman  interrupted. 

"Keep  your  shirt  on,  McKinstra.  I  don't  mean 
to  say  it.  Nobody  but  a  darn  fool  makes  a  gun 
play  when  the  cards  are  stacked  that-a-way.  Yore 
bad  play  was  in  reaching  for  the  gun  at  all." 

"Well,  Jack  Flatray  will  git  him.  I'll  bet  a  stack 
of  blues  on  that,"  contributed  a  fat  ranchman 
^heezily. 


96  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Unless  you  mussed  up  the  trail  coming-  back/' 
said  Ellis  to  the  stage-driver. 

"We  didn't.  I  thought  of  that,  and  I  had  Jose 
drive  clear  round  the  place.  Jack  will  find  it  ali 
right  unless  there's  too  much  travel  before  he  gets 
here,"  said  Alan. 

Farnum  laughed  malevolently.  "Mebbe  he'll  get 
him  and  mebbe  he  won't.  Jack's  human,  like  the 
rest  o$  us,  if  he  is  the  best  sheriff  in  Arizona.  Here's 
hoping  he  don't  get  him.  Any  man  that  waltzes  out 
of  the  cactus  and  appropriates  twenty  thousand 
dollars  belonging  to  Mr.  Morse  is  welcome  to  it  for 
all  of  me.  I  don't  care  if  he  is  one  of  MacQueen's 
bad  men.  I  wish  it  had  been  forty  thousand." 

Farnum  did  not  need  to  explain  the  reasons  for 
his  sentiments.  Everybody  present  knew  that  he 
was  the  leader  of  that  bunch  of  cattlemen  who  had 
bunched  themselves  together  to  resist  the  encroach 
ments  of  sheep  upon  the  range.  Among  these  the 
feeling  against  Morse  was  explosively  dangerous. 
It  had  found  expression  in  more  than  one  raid  upon 
his  sheep.  Many  of  them  had  been  destroyed  by 
one  means  or  another,  but  Morse,  with  the  obstinacy 
characteristic  of  him,  had  replaced  them  with  others 
and  continually  increased  his  herds.  There  had 
been  threats  against  his  life,  and  one  of  his  herders 
had  been  wounded.  But  the  mine-owner  went  his 
way  with  quiet  fearlessness  and  paid  no  attention  to 
the  animosity  he  had  stirred  up.  The  general  feel 
ing  was  that  the  trouble  must  soon  come  to  a  head. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  97 

Nobody  expected  the  rough  and  ready  vaqueros, 
reckless  and  impulsive  as  they  were,  to  submit  to  the 
loss  of  the  range,  which  meant  too  the  wiping  out 
of  their  means  of  livelihood,  without  a  bitter  strug 
gle  that  would  be  both  lawless  and  bloody. 

Wherefore  there  was  silence  after  Farnum  had 
spoken,  broken  at  length  by  the  amiable  voice  of 
the  fat  ranchman,  Baker. 

"Well,  we'll  see  what  we'll  see,"  he  wheezed 
complacently.  "And  anyways  I  got  to  have  some 
horseshoe  plug,  Melissy." 

The  girl  laughed  nervously  as  she  reached  for 
what  he  wanted.  "You're  a  safe  prophet,  Mr. 
Baker,"  she  said. 

"He'd  be  a  safe  one  if  he'd  prophesy  that  Jack 
Flatray  would"  have  Mr.  Hold-up  in  the  calaboose 
inside  of  three  days,"  put  in  a  half-grown  lad  in 
leathers. 

"I  ain't  so  sure  about  that.  You'll  have  to  show 
me,  and  so  will  Mr.  Deputy  Sheriff  Flatray," 
retorted  Farnum. 

A  shadow  darkened  the  doorway. 

"Good  afternoon,  gentlemen  all — and  Miss  Lee," 
a  pleasant  voice  drawled. 

The  circle  of  eyes  focused  on  the  new-comer 
and  saw  a  lean,  muscular,  young  fellow  of  medium 
height,  cool  and  alert,  with  the  dust  of  the  desert 
on  every  sunbaked  inch  of  him. 

"I'm  damned  if  it  ain't  Jack  here  already !"  gasped 
Baker, 


CHAPTER  VII 

WATERING  SHEEP 

THE  deputy  glanced  quietly  round,  nodded 
here  and  there  at  sight  of  the  familiar 
face  of  an  acquaintance,  and  spoke  t.j  die 
driver. 

"Let's  hear  you  say  your  little  piece  again,  JxeV* 

The  Mexican  now  had  it  by  heart,  and  he  patt<*ired 
off  the  thing  from  beginning  to  end  without  a  pause. 
Melissy,  behind  the  counter,  leaned  her  elbows  on 
it  and  fastened  her  eyes  on  the  boyish  face  of  the 
officer.  In  her  heart  she  was  troubled.  How  much 
did  he  know?  What  could  he  discover  from  the 
evidence  she  had  left?  He  had  the  reputation  of 
"being  the  best  trailer  and  the  most  fearless  officer 
in  Arizona.  But  surely  she  had  covered  her  tracks 
safely. 

From  Jose  the  ranger  turned  to  Alan.  "We'll 
hear  your  account  of  it  now,  seh,"  he  said  gently. 

While  Alan  talked,  Jack's  gaze  drifted  through 
the  window  to  the  flock  of  sheep  that  were  being 
driven  up  from  the  ditch  by  Lee  and  Norris.  That 
little  pastoral  scene  had  its  significance  for  him.  He 

98 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 99 

had  arrived  at  the  locality  of  the  hold-up  a  few  min 
utes  after  they  had  left,  and  his  keen  intelligence  had 
taken  in  some  of  the  points  they  had  observed.  A 
rapid  circuit  of  the  spot  at  the  distance  of  thirty 
yards  had  shown  him  no  tracks  leading  from  the 
place  except  those  which  ran  up  the  lateral  on  either 
side  of  it.  It  was  possible  that  these  belonged  to 
the  horses  of  the  robbers,  but  if  so  the  fellows 
were  singularly  careless  of  detection.  Moreover," 
the  booty  must  be  accounted  for.  They  had  not 
carried  it  with  them,  since  no  empty  box  remained 
to  show  that  they  had  poured  the  gold  into  sacks, 
and  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  take  the  box 
as  it  was  on  a  horse.  Nor  had  they  buried  it, 
unless  at  the  bottom  of  the  irrigating  ditch,  for 
some  signs  of  their  work  must  have  remained. 

Balancing  probabilities,  it  had  seemed  to  Flatray 
that  these  might  be  the  tracks  of  ranchmen  who  had 
arrived  after  the  hold-up  and  were  following  the 
escaping  bandits  up  the  lateral.  For  unless  these 
Were  the  robber's,  there  was  no  way  of  escape  except 
either  up  or  down  the  bottom  of  the  ditch.  His 
search  had  eliminated  the  possibility  of  any  other 
but  the  road,  and  this  was  travelled  too  frequently 
to  admit  of  even  a  chance  of  escape  by  it  without 
detection.  Jack  filed  away  one  or  two  questions  in 
his  brain  for  future  reference.  The  most  important 
of  these  was  to  discover  whether  there  had  been  any 
water  in  the  ditch  at  the  time  of  the  hold-up. 

He  had  decided  to  follow  the  tracks  leading  up 


100  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

the  ditch  and  found  no  difficulty  in  doing  so  at  a 
fast  walk.  Without  any  hesitation  they  paralelled 
the  edge  of  the  lateral.  Nor  had  the  deputy  travelled 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  he  made  a  discovery. 
The  rider  on  the  right  hand  side  of  the  stream 
had  been  chewing  tobacco,  and  he  had  a  habit  of 
splashing  his  mark  on  boulders  he  passed  in  the 
form  of  tobacco  juice.  Half  a  dozen  times  before 
he  reached  the  Lee  ranch  the  ranger  saw  this  sig 
nature  of  identity  writ  large  on  smooth  rocks  shin 
ing  in  the  sun.  The  last  place  he  saw  it  was  at  the 
point  where  the  two  riders  deflected  from  the  lateral 
toward  the  ranch  house,  following  tracks  which  led 
up  from  the  bottom  of  the  ditch. 

An  instant  later  Flatray  had  dodged  back  into  the 
chaparral,  for  somebody  was  driving  a  flock  of 
sheep  down  to  the  ditch.  He  made  out  that  there 
were  two  riders  behind  them,  and  that  they  had 
no  dog.  For  the  present  his  curiosity  was  satisfied. 
He  thought  he  knew  why  they  were  watering  sheep 
in  this  odd  fashion.  Swiftly  he  had  made  a  circuit, 
drawn  rein  in  front  of  the  store,  and  dropped  in 
just  in  time  to  hear  his  name.  Now,  as  with  one 
ear  he  listened  to  Alan's  account  of  the  hold-up,  with 
his  subconscious  mind  he  was  with  the  sheep-herders 
who  were  driving  the  flock  back  into  the  pasture. 

"Looks  like  our  friend  the  bad  man  was  onto  his 
job  all  right,"  was  the  deputy's  only  comment  when 
Alan  had  finished. 

"I'll  bet  he's  making  his  getaway  into  the  bills 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


mighty  immediate,"  chuckled  Baker.  "He  can't 
find  a  bank  in  the  mountain-side  to  deposit  that  gold 
any  too  soon  to  suit  him." 

"Sho !  I'll  bet  he  ain't  worried  a  mite.  He's  got 
his  arrangements  all  made,  and  likely  they'll  dove 
tail  to  suit  him.  He's  put  his  brand  on  that  gold 
to  stay,"  answered  Farnum  confidently. 

Jack's  mild  blue  eyes  rested  on  him  amiably. 
"Think  so,  Bob?" 

"I  ain't  knockin'  you  any,  Jack.  You're  all  right 
But  that's  how  I  figure  it  out,  and,  by  Gad!  I'm 
hopin'  it  too,"  Farnum  made  answer  recklessly. 

Flatray  laughed  and  strolled  from  the  crowded 
room  to  the  big  piazza.  A  man  had  just  cantered 
up  and  flung  himself  from  his  saddle.  The  ranger, 
looking  at  him,  thought  he  had  never  seen  another 
so  strikingly  handsome  an  Apollo.  Black  eyes 
looked  into  his  from  a  sun-tanned  face  perfectly 
modelled.  The  pose  of  the  head  and  figure  would 
have  delighted  a  sculptor. 

There  was  a  vigor,  an  unspoken  hostility,  in  the 
gaze  of  both  men. 

"Mo'nin',  Mr.  Deputy  Sheriff,"  one  said;  and 
the  other,  "Same  to  you,  Mr.  Norris." 

"You're  on  the  job  quick,"  sneered  the  cattle 
detective. 

"The  quicker  the  sooner,  I  expect." 

"And  by  night  you'll  have  Mr.  Hold-up  roped 
and  hog-tied?" 


102  BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"Not  so  you  could  notice  it.  Are  you  a  sheep- 
herder  these  days,  Mr.  Norris?" 

The  gentle  irony  of  this  was  not  lost  on  its  object, 
for  in  the  West  a  herder  of  sheep  is  the  next  remove 
from  a  dumb  animal. 

"No,  I'm  riding  for  the  Quarter  Circle  K  Bar 
outfit.  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  took  the  dust 
of  a  sheep  in  my  life.  I  did  it  to  oblige  Mr.  Lee," 

"Oh!  To  oblige  Mr.  Lee?" 

"He  wanted  to  water  them,  and  his  herder  wasn't 
here." 

"Must  'a*  been  wanting  water  mighty  bad,  I 
reckon,"  commented  Jack  amiably. 

"You  bet!  Lee  feels  better  satisfied  now  he's 
watered  them." 

"I  don't  doubt  it." 

Norris  changed  the  subject.  "You  must  have 
burnt  the  wind  getting  here.  I  didn't  expect  to  see 
you  for  some  hours." 

"I  happened  to  be  down  at  Yeager's  ranch,  and 
one  of  the  boys  got  me  on  the  line  from  Mesa." 

"Picked  up  any  clues  yet?"  asked  the  other  care 
lessly,  yet  always  with  that  hint  of  a  sneer;  and 
innocently  Flatray  answered,  "They  seem  to  be  right 
seldom." 

"Didn't  know  but  you'd  happened  on  the  fellow's 
trail." 

"I  guess  I'm  as  much  at  sea  as  you  are,"  was  the 
equivocal  answer. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  103 

Lee  came  over  from  the  stable,  still  wearing  spurs 
and  gauntlets. 

"Howdy,  Jack!"  he  nodded,  not  quite  so  much 
at  his  ease  as  usual.  "  Got  hyer  on  the  jump, 
didn't  you?" 

"I  kept  movin'." 

"This  shorely  beats  hell,  don't  it?"  Lee  glanced 
around,  selected  a  smooth  boulder,  and  fired  his 
discharge  of  tobacco  juice  at  it  true  to  the  inch. 
"Reminds  me  of  the  old  days.  You  boys  ain't  old 
enough  to  recall  them,  but  stage  hold-ups  were  right 
numerous  then." 

Blandly  the  deputy  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 
"I  don't  suppose  either  of  you  gentlemen  happen 
to  have  been  down  and  looked  over  the  ground 
where  the  hold-up  was?  The  tracks  were  right 
Cut  up  before  I  got  there." 

This  center  shot  silenced  Lee  for  an  instant,  but 
Morris  was  on  the  spot  with  smiling  ease. 

"No,  Mr.  Lee  and  I  have  been  hunting  strays 
on  the  mesa.  We  didn't  hear  about  it  till  a  few 
minutes  ago.  We're  at  your  service,  though,  Mr. 
Sheriff,  to  join  any  posses  you  want  to  send  out." 

"Much  obliged.  I'm  going  to  send  one  out 
toward  the  Galiuros  in  a  few  minutes  now.  I'll 
be  right  glad  to  have  you  take  charge  of  it,  Mr. 
Norris." 

The  derisive  humor  in  the  newly  appointed 
deputy's  eyes  did  not  quite  reach  the  surface. 

"Sure.    Whenever  you  want  me." 


104  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"I'm  going  to  send  Alan  McKinstra  along  to 
guide  you.  He  knows  that  country  like  a  book. 
You  'want  to  head  for  the  lower  pass,  swing  up 
Diable  Canon,  and  work  up  in  the  headquarters  of 
the  Three  Forks." 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  posse  was  in 
motion.  Flatray  watched  it  disappear  in  the  dust 
of  the  road  without  a  smile.  He  had  sent  them  out 
merely  to  distract  the  attention  of  the  public  and 
to  get  rid  of  as  many  as  possible  of  the  crowd.  For 
he  was  quite  as  well  aware  as  the  leader  of  the  posse 
that  this  search  in  the  Galiuros  was  a  wild-goose 
chase.  Somewhere  within  three  hundred  yards  of 
the  place  he  stood  both  the  robber  and  his  booty 
were  in  all  probability  to  be  found. 

Flatray  was  quite  right  in  his  surmise,  since 
Melissy  Lee,  who  had  come  out  to  see  the  posse  off, 
was  standing  at  the  end  of  the  porch  with  her  dusky 
eyes  fastened  on  him,  the  while  he  stood  beside  the 
house  with  one  foot  resting  negligently  on  the  oil 
cloth  cover  of  the  wash-stand. 

She  had  cast  him  out  of  her  friendship  because 
of  his  unworthiness,  but  there  was  a  tumult  in  her 
heart  at  sight  of  him.  No  matter  how  her  judg 
ment  condemned  him  as  a  villain,  some  instinct  in 
her  denied  the  possibility  of  it.  She  was  torn  in 
conflict  between  her  liking  for  him  and  her  con 
viction  that  he  deserved  only  contempt.  Somehow 
it  hurt  her  too  that  he  accepted  without  protest  her 
verdict,  appeared  so  willing  to  be  a  stranger  to  her. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  105 

Now  that  the  actual  physical  danger  of  her  adven 
ture  was  past,  Melissy  was  aware  too  of  a  chill  dread 
lurking  at  her  heart.  She  was  no  longer  buoyed 
up  by  the  swiftness  of  action  which  had  called  for 
her  utmost  nerve.  There  was  nothing  she  could 
do  now  but  wait,  and  waiting  was  of  all  things  the 
one  most  foreign  to  her  impulsive  temperament. 
She  acknowledged  too  some  fear  of  this  quiet,  soft- 
spoken  frontiersman.  All  Arizona  knew  not  only 
the  daredevil  spirit  that  fired  his  gentleness,  but 
the  competence  with  which  he  set  about  any  task 
he  assigned  himself.  She  did  not  see  how  he  could 
unravel  this  mystery.  She  had  left  no  clues  behind 
her,  she  felt  sure  of  that,  and  yet  was  troubled  lest 
he  guessed  at  her  secret  behind  that  mask  of  inno 
cence  he  wore.  He  did  not  even  remotely  guess  it 
as  yet,  but  he  was  far  closer  to  the  truth  than  he 
pretended.  The  girl  knew  she  should  leave  him 
and  go  about  her  work.  Her  role  was  to  appear 
as  inconspicuous  as  possible,  but  she  could  not  resist 
the  fascination  of  trying  to  probe  his  thoughts. 

"I  suppose  your  posse  will  come  back  with  the 
hold-ups  in  a  few  hours.  Will  it  be  worth  while 
to  wait  for  them  ?"  she  asked  with  amiable  derision. 

The  ranger  had  been  absorbed  in  thought,  his 
chin  in  his  hand,  but  he  brought  his  gaze  back 
from  the  distance  to  meet  hers.  What  emotion  lay 
behind  those  cold  eyes  she  could  not  guess. 

"You're  more  hopeful  than  I  am,  Miss  Lee." 

"What  are  you  sending  them  out  for,  then?" 


106  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Oh,  well,  the  boys  need  to  work  off  some  of 
their  energy,  and  there's  always  a  show  they  might 
happen  onto  the  robbers." 

"Do  you  think  some  of  the  Roaring  Fork  gang 
did  it?" 

"Can't  say." 

"I  suppose  you  are  staying  here  in  the  hope  that 
they  will  drop  in  and  deliver  themselves  to  you." 

He  looked  at  her  out  of  an  expressionless  face. 
"That's  about  it,  I  reckon.  But  what  I  tell  the  public 
is  that  I'm  staying  so  as  to  be  within  telephone  con 
nection.  You  see,  Sheriff  Burke  is  moving  up  to 
cut  them  off  from  the  Catalinas,  Jackson  is  riding 
out  from  Mammoth  to  haid  them  off  that  way, 
these  anxious  lads  that  have  just  pulled  out  from 
here  are  taking  care  of  the  Galiuros.  I'm  supposed 
to  be  sitting  with  my  fingers  on  the  keys  as  a  sort 
of  posse  dispatcher." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  won't  catch  them,"  she  told 
him  bluntly. 

"That  seems  to  be  a  prevailing  sentiment  round 
here.  You  say  it  right  hearty  too ;  couldn't  be  more 
certain  of  your  feelings  if  it  had  been  your  own 
father." 

He  said  it  carelessly,  yet  with  his  keen  blue  eyes 
fixed  on  her.  Nevertheless,  he  was  totally  unpre 
pared  for  the  effect  of  his  words.  The  color  washed 
from  her  bronzed  cheeks,  and  she  stood  staring  at 
him  with  big,  fear-filled  eyes. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 107 

"What — what  do  you  mean  ?"  she  gasped.  "How 
dare  you  say  that?" 

"I  ain't  said  anything  so  terrible.  You  don't  need 
to  take  it  to  heart  like  that."  He  gave  her  a  faint 
smile  for  an  instant.  "I'm  not  really  expecting  to 
arrest  Mr.  Lee  for  holding  up  that  stage." 

The  color  beat  back  slowly  into  her  face.  She 
knew  she  had  made  a  false  move  in  taking  so 
seriously  his  remark. 

"I  don't  think  you  ought  to  joke  about  a  thing 
like  that,"  she  said  stiffly. 

"All  right.  I'll  not  say  it  next  time  till  I'm  in 
earnest,"  he  promised  as  he  walked  away. 

"I  wonder  if  he  really  meant  anything,"  the  girl 
was  thinking  in  terror,  and  he,  "she  knows  some 
thing;  now,  I  would  like  to  know  what." 

Melissy  attended  to  her  duties  in  the  postoffice 
after  the  arrival  of  the  stage,  and  looked  after  the 
dining-room  as  usual,  but  she  was  all  the  time 
uneasily  aware  that  Jack  Flatray  had  quietly  dis 
appeared.  Where  had  he  gone?  And  why?  She 
found  no  answer  to  that  question,  but  the  ranger 
dropped  in  on  his  bronco  in  time  for  supper,  imper 
turbable  and  self-contained  as  ever. 

"Think  I'll  stay  all  night  if  you  have  a  room  for 
me,"  he  told  her  after  he  had  eaten. 

"We  have  a  room,"  she  said.  "What  more  have 
you  heard  about  the  stage  robbery?" 

"Nothing,  Miss  Lee." 

"Oh,  I  thought  maybe  you  had/'  she  murmured 


108 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

tremulously,  for  his  blue  eyes  were  unwaveringly 
upon  her  and  she  could  not  know  how  much  or 
how  little  he  might  mean. 

Later  she  saw  him  sitting  on  the  fence,  hold-* 
ing  genial  converse  with  Jim  Budd.  The  waiter 
was  flashing  a  double  row  of  white  teeth  in  deep 
laughter  at  something  the  deputy  had  told  him. 
Evidently  they  were  already  friends.  When  she 
looked  again,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  knew  Jack 
had  reached  the  point  where  he  was  pumping  Jim 
and  the  latter  was  disseminating  misinformation. 
That  the  negro  was  stanch  enough,  she  knew,  but 
she  was  on  the  anxious  seat  lest  his  sharp-witted 
inquisitor  get  what  he  wanted  in  spite  of  him. 
After  he  had  finished  with  Budd  the  ranger  drifted 
around  to  the  kitchen  in  time  to  intercept  Hop  Ling 
casually  as  he  came  out  after  finishing  his  evening's 
work.  The  girl  was  satisfied  Flatray  could  not 
have  any  suspicion  of  the  truth.  Nevertheless,  she 
wished  he  would  let  the  help  alone.  He  might  ac 
cidentally  stumble  on  something  that  would  set  him 
on  the  right  track. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  BOONE-BELLAMY  FEUD  IS  RENEWED 

HERE'S  six  bits  on  the  counter  under  a  seed 
catalogue.  Did  you  leave  it  here,  daddy  ?" 
Champ  Lee,  seated  on  the  porch  just 
outside  the  store  door,  took  the  pipe  from  his  mouth 
and  answered : 

"Why  no,  honey,  I  don't  reckon  I  did,  not  to  my 
ricollection." 

"That's  queer.     I  know  I  didn't " 

Melissy  broke  her  sentence  sharply.  There  had 
come  into  her  eyes  a  spark  of  excitement,  simul 
taneous  with  the  brain-flash  which  told  her  who 
had  left  the  money.  No  doubt  the  quarter  and  the 
half  dollar  had  been  lying  there  ever  since  the  day 
last  week  when  Morse  had  eaten  at  the  Bar  Double 
G.  She  addressed  an  envelope,  dropped  the  money 
in,  sealed  the  flap,  and  put  the  package  beside  a 
letter  addressed  to  T.  L.  Morse. 

Lee,  full  of  an  unhappy  restlessness  which  he 
could  not  control,  presently  got  up  and  moved  away 
to  the  stables.  He  was  blaming  himself  bitterly 
for  the  events  of  the  past  few  days. 

It  was  perhaps  half  an  hour  later  that  Melissy 
109 


110 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

looked  up  to  see  the  sturdy  figure  of  Morse  in  the 
doorway.  During  the  past  year  he  had  filled  out, 
grown  stronger  and  more  rugged.  His  deep  tan 
and  heavy  stride  pronounced  him  an  outdoor  man 
no  less  surely  than  the  corduroy  suit  and  the  high 
laced  miners'  boots. 

He  came  forward  to  the  postoffice  window  with 
out  any  sign  of  recognition. 

"Is  Mr.  Flatray  still  here?" 

"No!"  Without  further  explanation  Melissy 
took  from  the  box  the  two  letters  addressed  to 
Morse  and  handed  them  to  him. 

The  girl  observed  the  puzzled  look  that  stole  over 
his  face  at  sight  of  the  silver  in  one  envelope.  A 
glance  at  the  business  address  printed  on  the  upper 
left  hand  corner  enlightened  him.  He  laid  the 
money  down  in  the  stamp  window. 

"This  isn't  mine." 

"You  heard  what  my  father  said?" 

"That  applies  to  next  time,  not  to  this." 

"I  think  it  does  apply  to  this  time." 

"I  can't  see  how  you're  going  to  make  me  take 
it  back.  I'm  an  obstinate  man." 

"Just  as  you  like." 

A  sudden  flush  of  anger  swept  her.  She  caught 
up  the  silver  and  flung  it  through  the  open  window 
into  the  dusty  road. 

His  dark  eyes  met  hers  steadily  and  a  dull  color 
burned  in  his  tanned  cheeks.  Without  a  word  he 
turned  away,  and  instantly  she  regretted  what  she 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  111 

had  done.  She  had  insulted  him  deliberately  and 
put  herself  in  the  wrong.  At  bottom  she  was  a 
tender-hearted  child,  even  though  her  father  and  his 
friends  had  always  spoiled  her,  and  she  could  not 
but  reproach  herself  for  the  hurt  look  she  had 
brought  into  his  strong,  sad  face.  He  was  their 
enemy,  of  course,  but  even  enemies  have  rights. 

Morse  walked  out  of  the  office  looking  straight 
before  him,  his  strong  back  teeth  gripped  so  that 
the  muscles  stood  out  on  his  salient  jaw.  Impul 
sively  the  girl  ran  around  the  counter  after  him. 

He  looked  up  from  untying  his  horse  to  see  her 
straight  and  supple  figure  running  toward  him.  Her 
eager  face  was  full  of  contrition  and  the  color  of 
pink  rose  petals  came  and  went  in  it. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Morse.  I  oughtn't  to  have  done 
that.  I  hurt  your  feelings,"  she  cried. 

At  best  he  was  never  a  handsome  man,  but  now 
his  deep,  dark  eyes  lit  with  a  glow  that  surprised 
her. 

"Thank  you.  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice. 

"I'm  so  tempery,"  she  explained  in  apology,  and 
added :  "I  suppose  a  nice  girl  wouldn't  have 
done  it." 

"A  nice  girl  did  do  it,"  was  all  he  could  think 
to  say. 

"You  needn't  take  the  trouble  to  say  that.  I  know 
I've  just  scrambled  up  and  am  not  ladylike  and 
proper.  Sometimes  I  don't  care.  I  like  to  be  able 


113 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

to  do  things  like  boys.    But  I  suppose  it's  dreadful." 

"I  don't  think  it  is  at  all.  None  of  your  friends 
could  think  so.  Not  that  I  include  myself  among 
them,"  he  hastened  to  disclaim.  "I  can't  be  both 
your  friend  and  your  enemy,  can  I?" 

The  trace  of  a  sardonic  smile  was  in  his  eyes. 
For  the  moment  as  she  looked  at  him  she  thought 
he  might.  But  she  answered : 

"I  don't  quite  see  how." 

"You  hate  me,  I  suppose,"  he  blurted  out  bluntly. 

"I  suppose  so."  And  more  briskly  she  added, 
with  dimples  playing  near  the  corners  of  her  mouth : 
"Of  course  I  do." 

"That's  frank.  It's  worth  something  to  have  so 
decent  an  enemy.  I  don't  believe  you  would  shoot 
me  in  the  back." 

"Some  of  the  others  would.  You  should  be  more 
careful,"  she  cried  before  she  could  stop  herself. 

He  shrugged.     "I  take  my  fighting  chance." 

"It  isn't  much  of  a  one.  You'll  be  shot  at  from 
ambush  some  day." 

"It  wouldn't  be  a  new  experience.  I  went  through 
it  last  week." 

"Where?"  she  breathed. 

"Down  by  Willow  Wash." 

"Who  did  it?" 

He  laughed,  without  amusement.  "I  didn't  have 
my  rifle  with  me,  so  I  didn't  stay  to  inquire." 

"It  must  have  been  some  of  those  wild  vaqueros." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  113 

"That  was  my  guess." 

"But  you  have  other  enemies,  too/' 

"Miss  Lee,"  he  smiled 

"I  mean  others  that  are  dangerous." 

"Your  father?"  he  asked. 

"Father  would  never  do  that  except  in  a  fair 
fight.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  him." 

"I  don't  know  whom  you  mean,  but  a  few  extras 
don't  make  much  difference  when  one  is  so  liberally 
supplied  already,"  he  said  cynically. 

"I  shouldn't  make  light  of  them  if  I  were  you," 
she  cautioned. 

"Who  do  you  mean?" 

"I've  said  all  I'm  going  to,  and  more  than  I 
ought,"  she  told  him  decisively.  "Except  this,  that 
it's  your  own  fault.  You  shouldn't  be  so  stiff.  Why 
don't  you  compromise  ?  With  the  cattlemen,  for  in 
stance.  They  have  a  good  deal  of  right  on  their 
side.  They  did  have  the  range  first." 

"You  should  tell  that  to  your  father,  too." 

"Dad  runs  sheep  on  the  range  to  protect  himself. 
He  doesn't  drive  out  other  people's  cattle  and  take 
away  their  living." 

"Well,  I  might  compromise,  but  not  at  the  end 
of  a  gun." 

"No,  of  course  not.  Here  comes  dad  now,"  she 
added  hurriedly,  aware  for  the  first  time  that  she 
had  been  holding  an  extended  conversation  with 
her  father's  foe. 


114  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"We  started  enemies  and  we  quit  enemies.  Will 
you  shake  hands  on  that,  Miss  Lee?"  he  asked. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  then  drew  it  swiftly  back. 
"No,  I  can't.  I  forgot.  There's  another  reason." 

"Another  reason!  You  mean  the  Arkansas 
charge  against  me?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"No.  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is."  She  felt  her 
self  suffused  in  a  crimson  glow.  How  could  she 
explain  that  she  could  not  touch  hands  with  him 
because  she  had  robbed  him  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars? 

Lee  stopped  at  the  steps,  astonished  to  see  his 
daughter  and  this  man  in  talk  together.  Yesterday 
he  would  have  resented  it  bitterly,  but  now  the  sit 
uation  was  changed.  Something  of  so  much  greater 
magnitude  had  occurred  that  he  was  too  perturbed 
to  cherish  his  feud  for  the  present.  All  night  he 
had  carried  with  him  the  dreadful  secret  he  sus 
pected.  He  could  not  look  Melissy  in  the  face,  nor 
could  he  discuss  the  robbery  with  anybody.  The 
one  fact  that  overshadowed  all  others  was  that  his 
little  girl  had  gone  out  and  held  up  a  stage,  that 
if  she  were  discovered  she  would  be  liable  to  a  term 
in  the  penitentiary.  Laboriously  his  slow  brain  had 
worked  it  all  out.  A  talk  with  Jim  Budd  had  con 
firmed  his  conclusions.  He  knew  that  she  had  taken 
this  risk  in  order  to  save  him.  He  was  bowed  down 
with  his  unworthiness,  with  shame  that  he  had 
dragged  her  into  this  horrible  tangle.  He  was  con 
vinced  that  Jack  Flatray  would  get  at  the  truth, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  115 

and  already  he  was  resolved  to  come  forward  and 
claim  the  whole  affair  as  his  work. 

"I've  been  apologizing  to  Mr.  Morse  for  insult- 
ing  him,  dad,"  the  girl  said  immediately. 

Her  father  passed  a  bony  hand  slowly  across  his 
unshaven  chin.  "That's  right,  honey.  If  you  done 
him  a  meanness,  you  had  ought  to  say  so." 

"She  has  said  so  very  handsomely,  Mr.  Lee," 
spoke  up  Morse. 

"I've  been  warning  him,  dad,  that  he  ought  to 
be  more  careful  how  he  rides  around  alone,  with 
the  cattlemen  feeling  the  way  they  do." 

"It's  a  fact  they  feel  right  hot  under  the  collar. 
You're  ce'tainly  a  temptation  to  them,  Mr.  Morse,'* 
the  girl's  father  agreed. 

The  mine  owner  shifted  the  subject  of  conversa 
tion.  He  was  not  a  man  of  many  impulses,  but  he 
yielded  to  one  now. 

"Can't  we  straighten  out  this  trouble  between  us, 
Mr.  Lee?  You  think  I've  done  you  an  injury.  Per 
haps  I  have.  If  we  both  mean  what's  right,  we  can 
get  together  and  fix  it  up  in  a  few  minutes." 

The  old  Southerner  stiffened  and  met  him  with 
an  eye  of  jade.  "I  ain't  asking  any  favors  of  you, 
Mr.  Morse.  We'll  settle  this  matter  some  day,  and 
settle  it  right.  But  you  can't  buy  me  off.  I'll  not 
take  a  bean  from  you." 

The  miner's  eyes  hardened.  "I'm  not  trying  to 
buy  you  off.  I  made  a  fair  offer  of  peace.  Since 
you  have  rejected  it,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 


116 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

said. "  With  that  he  bowed  stiffly  and  walked  away, 
leading  his  horse. 

Lee's  gaze  followed  him  and  slowly  the  eyes 
under  the  beetled  brows  softened. 

"Mebbe  I  done  wrong,  honey.  Mebbe  I'd  ought 
to  have  given  in.  I'm  too  proud  to  compromise 
when  he's  got  me  beat.  That's  what's  ailin'  with 
me.  But  I  reckon  I'd  better  have  knuckled  under." 

The  girl  slipped  her  arm  through  his.  "Some 
times  I'm  just  like  that  too,  daddy.  I've  just  got 
to  win  before  I  make  up.  I  don't  blame  you  a  mite, 
but,  all  the  same,  we  should  have  let  him  fix  it  up." 

It  was  characteristic  of  them  both  that  neither 
thought  of  reversing  the  decision  he  had  made.  It 
was  done  now,  and  they  would  abide  by  the  results. 
But  already  both  of  them  half  regretted,  though 
for  very  different  reasons.  Lee  was  thinking  that 
for  Melissy's  sake  he  should  have  made  a  friend  of 
the  man  he  hated,  since  it  was  on  the  cards  that 
within  a  few  days  she  might  be  in  his  power.  The 
girl's  feeling,  too,  was  unselfish.  She  could  not  for 
get  the  deep  hunger  for  friendship  that  had  shone 
in  the  man's  eyes.  He  was  alone  in  the  world,  a 
strong  man  surrounded  by  enemies  who  would 
probably  destroy  him  in  the  end.  There  was  stir 
ring  in  her  heart  a  sweet  womanly  pity  and  sym 
pathy  for  the  enemy  whose  proffer  of  friendship  had 
been  so  cavalierly  rejected. 

The  sight  of  a  horseman  riding  down  the  trail 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  117 

from  the  Flagstaff  mine  shook  Melissy  into  alert 
ness. 

"Look,  dad.    It's  Mr.  Norris,"  she  cried. 

Morse,  who  had  not  yet  recognized  him,  swung 
to  the  saddle,  his  heart  full  of  bitterness.  Every 
man's  hand  was  against  his,  and  every  woman's. 
What  was  there  in  his  nature  that  turned  people 
against  him  so  inevitably  ?  There  seemed  to  be  some 
taint  in  him  that  corroded  all  natural  human  kind 
ness. 

A  startled  oath  brought  him  from  his  somber  re 
flections.  He  looked  up,  to  see  the  face  of  a  man 
with  whom  in  the  dead  years  of  the  past  he  had 
been  in  bitter  feud. 

Neither  of  them  spoke.  Morse  looked  at  him 
with  a  face  cold  as  chiselled  marble  and  as  hard. 
The  devil's  own  passion  burned  in  the  storm-tossed 
one  of  the  other. 

Norris  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"So  it  was  all  a  lie  about  your  being  killed,  Dick 
Bellamy." 

The  mine  owner  did  not  speak,  but  the  rigor  of 
his  eyes  did  not  relax. 

"Gave  it  out  to  throw  me  off  your  trail,  did  you  ? 
Knew  mighty  well  I'd  cut  the  heart  out  of  the  man 
who  shot  poor  Shep."  The  voice  of  the  cattle  de 
tective  rang  out  in  malignant  triumph.  "You 
guessed  it  c'rect,  seh.  Right  here's  where  th< 
Boone-Bellamy  feud  claims  another  victim." 

The  men  were  sitting  face  to  face,  so  close  thai 


118 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

their  knees  almost  touched.  As  Norris  jerked  out 
his  gun  Bellamy  caught  his  wrist.  They  struggled 
for  an  instant,  the  one  to  free  his  arm,  the  other  to 
retain  his  grip.  Bellamy  spurred  his  horse  closer. 
The  more  powerful  of  the  two,  he  slowly  twisted 
around  the  imprisoned  wrist.  Inch  by  inch  the  re 
volver  swung  in  a  jerky,  spasmodic  circle.  There 
was  a  moment  when  it  pointed  directly  at  the  mine 
owner's  heart.  His  enemy's  finger  crooked  on  the 
trigger,  eyes  passionate  with  the  stark  lust  to  kill. 
But  the  pressure  on  the  wrist  had  numbed  the  hand. 
The  weapon  jumped  out  of  line,  went  clattering 
down  into  the  dust  from  the  palsied  fingers. 

Lee  ran  forward  and  pushed  between  the  men. 

"Here.  Ain't  you  boys  got  ary  bettah  sense  than 
to  clinch  like  wildcats?"  he  demanded,  jerking  one 
of  the  horses  away  by  the  bridle.  "No,  you  don't, 
Phil.  I'll  take  keer  of  this  gun  for  the  present." 
It  was  noticeable  that  Beauchamp  Lee's  speech 
grew  more  after  the  manner  of  the  plantations 
when  he  became  excited. 

The  cowpuncher,  white  with  anger,  glared  at  his 
enemy  and  poured  curses  at  him,  the  while  he 
nursed  his  strained  wrist.  For  the  moment  he  was 
impotent,  but  he  promised  himself  vengeance  in  full 
when  they  should  meet  again. 

"That'll  be  enough  from  you  now,  Phil,"  said 
the  old  ex-Confederate  good-naturedly,  leading  him 
toward  the  house  and  trying  to  soothe  his  malevo 
lent  chagrin. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


Bellamy  turned  and  rode  away.  At  the  corner 
of  the  corral  he  met  Jack  Flatray  riding  up. 

"Been  having  a  little  difference  of  opinion  with 
our  friend,  haven't  you,  seh?"  the  deputy  asked 
pleasantly. 

"Yes,"  Bellamy  gave  him  only  the  crisp  mono 
syllable  and  changed  the  subject  immediately. 
"What  about  this  stage  robbery?  Have  you  been 
able  to  make  anything  of  it,  Mr.  Flatray?" 

"Why,  yes.  I  reckon  we'll  be  able  to  land  the 
miscreant  mebbe,  if  things  come  our  way,"  drawled 
the  deputy.  "Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  to  offer 
a  reward,  though,  to  keep  things  warm?" 

"I  thought  of  that.  I  made  it  a  thousand  dollars. 
The  posters  ought  to  be  out  to-day  on  the  stage." 

"Good  enough  1" 

"Whom  do  you  suspect?" 

Jack  looked  at  him  with  amiable  imperturbability. 
"I  reckon  I  better  certify  my  suspicions,  seh,  before 
I  go  to  shouting  them  out." 

"All  right,  sir.  Since  I'm  paying  the  shot,  it 
ought  to  entitle  me  to  some  confidence.  But  it's  up 
to  you.  Get  back  the  twenty  thousand  dollars, 
that's  all  I  ask,  except  that  you  put  the  fellow  be 
hind  the  bars  of  the  penitentiary  for  a  few  years." 

Flatray  gave  him  an  odd  smile  which  he  did  not 
understand. 

"I  hope  to  be  able  to  accommodate  you,  seh,  about 
this  time  to-niorrow,  so  far  as  getting  the  gold 


120  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

goes.  You'll  have  to  wait  a  week  or  two  before 
the  rest  of  your  expectations  get  gratified." 

"Any  reasonable  time.  I  want  to  see  him  there 
eventually.  That's  all/' 

Jack  laughed  again,  without  giving  any  reason 
for  his  mirth.  That  ironic  smile  continued  to  deco 
rate  his  face  for  some  time.  He  seemed  to  have 
some  inner  source  of  mirth  he  did  not  care  to  dis 
close. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  DANGER  LINK 

THOUGH  Champ  Lee  had  business  in  Mesa 
next  day  that  would  not  be  denied,  he  was 
singularly  loath  to  leave  the  ranch.  He 
wanted  to  stay  close  to  Melissy  until  the  denoue 
ment  of  the  hunt  for  the  stage  robber.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  well  known  that  his  contest  with 
Morse  for  the  Monte  Cristo  was  up  for  a  hearing. 
To  stay  at  home  would  have  been  a  confession  of 
his  anxiety  that  he  did  not  want  to  make.  But  it 
was  only  after  repeated  charges  to  his  daughter  to 
call  him  up  by  telephone  immediately  if  anything 
happened  that  he  could  bring  himself  to  ride  away. 
He  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  a  Mexican 
vaquero  rode  in  with  the  information  that  old  An 
tonio,  on  his  way  to  the  post  at  Three  Pines  with 
a  second  drove  of  sheep,  had  twisted  his  ankle  badly 
about  fifteen  miles  from  the  ranch.  After  trying 
in  vain  to  pick  up  a  herder  at  Mesa  by  telephone, 
Melissy  was  driven  to  the  only  feasible  course  left 
her,  to  make  the  drive  herself  in  place  of  Antonio. 
There  were  fifteen  hundred  sheep  in  the  bunch,  and 

1S1 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


they  must  be  taken  care  of  at  once  by  somebody 
competent  for  the  task.  She  knew  she  could  handle 
them,  for  it  had  amused  her  to  take  charge  of  a 
herd  often  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time.  The  long 
stretch  over  the  desert  would  be  wearisome  and 
monotonous,  but  she  had  the  slim,  muscular  tena 
city  of  a  half-grown  boy.  It  did  not  matter  what 
she  wanted  to  do.  The  thing  to  which  she  came 
back  always  was  that  the  sheep  must  be  taken 
care  of. 

She  left  directions  with  Jim  for  taking  care  of 
the  place,  changed  to  a  khaki  skirt  and  jacket, 
slapped  a  saddle  on  her  bronco,  and  disappeared 
across  country  among  the  undulations  of  the  sand 
hills.  A  tenderfoot  would  have  been  hopelessly  lost 
in  the  sameness  of  these  hills  and  washes,  but  Me- 
lissy  knew  them  as  a  city  dweller  does  his  streets. 
Straight  as  an  arrow  she  went  to  her  mark.  The 
tinkle  of  distant  sheep-bells  greeted  her  after  some 
hours1  travel,  and  soon  the  low,  ceaseless  bleating 
of  the  herd. 

The  girl  found  Antonio  propped  against  a  pinon 
tree,  solacing  himself  philosophically  with  cigar 
ettes.  He  was  surprised  to  see  her,  but  made  only 
a  slight  objection  to  her  taking  his  place.  His 
ankle  was  paining  him  a  good  deal,  and  he  was  very 
glad  to  get  the  chance  to  pull  himself  to  her  saddle 
and  ride  back  to  the  ranch. 

A  few  quick  words  sent  the  dog  Colin  out  among- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  123 

the  sheep,  by  now  scattered  far  and  wide  over  the 
-hill.  They  presently  came  pouring  toward  her, 
diverged  westward,  and  massed  at  the  base  of  a 
butte  rising  from  a  dry  arroyo.  The  journey  had 
foegun,  and  hour  after  hour  it  continued  through 
the  hot  day,  always  in  a  cloud  of  dust  flung  up  by 
'the  sheep,  sometimes  through  the  heavy  sand  of  a 
wash,  often  over  slopes  of  shale,  not  seldom  through 
thick  cactus  beds  that  shredded  her  skirt  and  tore 
like  fierce,  sharp  fingers  at  her  legging-protected 
ankles.  The  great  gray  desert  still  stretched  before 
her  to  the  horizon's  edge,  and  still  she  flung  the 
miles  behind  her  with  the  long,  rhythmic  stride  that 
was  her  birthright  from  the  hills.  A  strong  man, 
unused  to  it,  would  have  been  staggering  with  stiff 
fatigue,  but  this  slender  girl  held  the  trail  with 
light  grace,  her  weight  still  carried  springily  on  her 
small  ankles. 

Once  she  rested  for  a  few  minutes,  flinging  her 
self  down  into  the  sand  at  length,  her  head  thrown 
back  from  the  full  brown  throat  so  that  she  could 
gaze  into  the  unstained  sky  of  blue.  Presently  the 
claims  of  this  planet  made  themselves  heard,  for 
she,  too,  was  elemental  and  a  creature  of  instinct. 
The  earth  was  awake  and  palpitating  with  life,  the 
low,  indefatigable  life  of  creeping  things  and  vege 
tation  persisting  even  in  this  waste  of  rock  and 
sand 

But  she  could  not  rest  long,  for  Diablo  Canon 
must  be  reached  before  dark.  The  sheep  would  be 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


very  thirsty  by  the  time  they  arrived,  and  she  could 
not  risk  letting  them  tear  down  the  precipitous  edge 
among  the  sharp  rocks  in  the  dark.  Already  over 
the  sand  stretches  a  peculiar  liquid  glow  was  flood 
ing,  so  that  the  whole  desert  seemed  afire.  The 
burning  sun  had  slipped  behind  a  saddle  of  the  pur-  • 
pie  peaks,  leaving  a  brilliant  horizon  of  man^ 
mingled  shades. 

It  was  as  she  came  forward  to  the  canon's  edge 
in  this  luminous  dusk  that  Melissy  became  aware 
of  a  distant  figure  on  horseback,  silhouetted  for  a 
moment  against  the  skyline.  One  glance  was  all 
she  got  of  it,  for  she  was  very  busy  with  the  sheep, 
working  them  leisurely  toward  the  black  chasm  that 
seemed  to  yawn  for  them.  High  rock  walls  girt 
the  canon,  gigantic  and  bottomless  in  the  gloom. 
A  dizzy  trail  zigzagged  back  and  forth  to  the  pool 
below,  and  along  this  she  and  the  collie  skilfully 
sent  the  eager,  thirsty  animals. 

The  mass  of  the  sheep  were  still  huddled  on  the 
edge  of  the  ravine  when  there  came  the  thud  of 
horses'  hoofs  and  the  crack  of  revolvers,  accom 
panied  by  hoarse,  triumphant  yells  and  cries.  Me 
lissy  knew  instantly  what  it  was  —  the  attack  of  cat 
tlemen  upon  her  defenseless  flock.  They  had  waited 
until  the  sheep  were  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
and  now  they  were  going  to  drive  the  poor  crea 
tures  down  upon  the  rocks  two  hundred  feet  below. 
Her  heart  leaped  to  her  throat,  but  scarce  more 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


quickly  than  she  upon  a  huge  boulder  bordering 
the  trail. 

"Back!  Keep  back!"  she  heard  herself  crying, 
and  even  as  she  spoke  a  bullet  whistled  through  the 
Jrim  of  her  felt  hat. 

Standing  there  boldly,  unconscious  of  danger,  th« 
wind  draped  and  denned  the  long  lines  of  her  figure 
like  those  of  the  Winged  Victory. 

The  foremost  rider  galloped  past,  waving  his 
sombrero  and  shooting  into  the  frightened  mass  in 
front  of  him.  Within  a  dozen  feet  of  her  he  turned 
his  revolver  upon  the  girl,  then,  with  an  oath  of 
recognition,  dragged  his  pony  back  upon  its 
haunches.  Another  horse  slithered  into  it,  and  a 
tkird. 

"It's  'Lissie  Lee  !"  a  voice  cried  in  astonishment  ; 
and  another,  with  a  startled  oath,  "You're  right, 
Bob!" 

The  first  rider  gave  his  pony  the  spur,  swung  it 
from  the  trail  in  a  half-circle  which  brought  it  back 
at  the  very  edge  of  the  ravine,  and  blocked  the  for 
ward  pour  of  terror-stricken  sheep.  Twice  his  re 
volver  rang  out.  The  girl's  heart  stood  still,  for 
tiie  man  was  Norris,  and  it  seemed  for  an  instant 
as  if  he  must  be  swept  over  the  precipice  by  the 
stampede.  The  leaders  braced  themselves  to 
stop,  but  were  slowly  pushed  forward  toward 
the  edge.  One  of  the  other  riders  had  by  this 
time  joined  the  daring  cowpuncher,  and  together 
they  stemmed  the  tide.  The  pressure  on  the  trail 


126  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

relaxed  and  the  sheep  began  to  mill  around  and' 
around. 

It  was  many  minutes  before  they  were  sufficiently 
quieted  to  trust  upon  the  trail  again,  but  at  last  the 
men  got  them  safely  to  the  bottom,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  two  or  three  killed  in  the  descent. 

Her  responsibility  for  the  safety  of  the  sheep 
gone,  the  girl  began  to  crawl  down  the  dark  trail. 
She  could  not  see  a  yard  in  front  of  her,  and  at 
each  step  the  path  seemed  to  end  in  a  gulf  of  dark 
ness.  She  could  not  be  sure  she  was  on  the  trail 
at  all,  and  her  nerve  was  shaken  by  the  experience 
through  which  she  had  just  passed.  Presently  she 
stopped  and  waited,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
definitely  and  physically  afraid.  She  stood  the^e 
trembling,  a  long,  long  time  it  seemed  to  her,  sur 
rounded  by  the  impenetrable  blackness  of  night. 

Then  a  voice  came  to  her. 

"Melissy!" 

She  answered,  and  the  voice  came  slowly  nearer. 

"You're  off  the  trail,"  it  told  her  presently,  just 
before  a  human  figure  defined  itself  in  the  gloom. 

"I'm  afraid,"  she  sobbed.. 

A  strong  hand  came  from  nowhere  and  caught 
hers.  An  arm  slipped  around  her  waist. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  little  girL  I'll  see  no  harm 
comes  to  you,"  the  man  said  to  her  with  a  quick, 
fkrce  tenderness. 

The  comfort  of  his  support  was  unspeakable.  It 
stole  into  her  heart  like  water  to  the  roots  of  thirsty 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  127 

plants.  To  feel  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  to 
know  he  held  her  tight,  meant  safety  and  life.  He 
had  told  her  not  to  be  afraid,  and  she  was  so  no 
longer. 

"You  shot  at  me,"  she  murmured  in  reproach. 

"I  didn't  know.  We  thought  it  was  Bellamy's 
herd.  But  it's  true,  God  forgive  me!  I  did." 

There  was  in  his  voice  the  warm  throb  of  emo 
tion,  and  in  his  eyes  something  she  had  never  seen 
before  in  those  of  any  human  being.  Like  stars 
they  were,  swimming  in  light,  glowing  with  the 
exultation  of  the  triumph  he  was  living.  She  was 
a  splendid  young  animal,  untaught  of  life,  gener 
ous,  passionate,  tempestuous,  and  as  her  pliant,  sup 
ple  body  lay  against  his  some  sex  instinct  old  as 
creation  stirred  potently  within  her.  She  had  found 
her  mate.  It  came  to  her  as  innocently  as  the  same 
impulse  comes  to  the  doe  when  the  spring  freshets 
are  seeking  the  river,  and  as  innocently  her  lips 
met  his  in  their  first  kiss  of  surrender.  Something 
irradiated  her,  softened  her,  warmed  her.  Was  it 
love?  She  did  not  know,  but  as  yet  she  was  still 
happy  in  the  glow  of  it. 

Slowly,  hand  in  hand,  they  worked  back  to  the 
trail  and  down  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  canon.  The 
soft  velvet  night  enwrapped  them.  It  shut  them 
from  the  world  and  left  them  one  to  one.  From 
the  meeting  palms  strange  electric  currents  tingled 
through  the  girl  and  flushed  her  to  an  ecstasy  of 
emotion. 


128  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

A  camp  fire  was  already  burning  cheerfully  when 
they  reached  the  base  of  the  descent.  A  man  came 
forward  to  meet  them.  He  glanced  curiously  at 
the  girl  after  she  came  within  the  circle  of  light. 
Her  eyes  were  shining  as  from  some  inner  glow, 
and  she  was  warm  with  a  soft  color  that  vitalized 
her  beauty.  Then  his  gaze  passed  to  take  in  with 
narrowed  lids  her  companion. 

"I  see  you  found  her/'  he  said  dryly. 

"Yes,  I  found  her,  Bob." 

He  answered  the  spirit  of  Farnum's  words  rather 
than  the  letter  of  them,  nor  could  he  keep  out  of 
his  bearing  and  his  handsome  face  the  exultation 
that  betrayed  success. 

"H'mp!"  Farnum  turned  from  him  and  ad 
dressed  the  girl :  "I  suppose  Norris  has  explained 
our  mistake  and  eaten  crow  for  all  of  us,  Miss  Lee. 
I  don't  see  how  come  we  to  make  such  a  blame' 
fool  mistake.  It  was  gitting  dark,  and  we  took 
your  skirt  for  a  greaser's  blanket.  It's  ce'tainly 
on  us." 

"Yes,  he  has  explained." 

"Well,  there  won't  any  amount  of  explaining 
square  the  thing.  We  might  'a'  done  you  a  ter 
rible  injury,  Miss  Lee.  It  was  gilt-edged  luck  for 
us  that  you  thought  to  jump  on  that  rock  and 
holler." 

"I  was  thinking  of  the  sheep,"  she  said. 

"Well,  you  saved  them,  and  I'm  right  glad  of  it. 
We  ain't  got  any  use  for  Mary's  little  trotter,  but 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  129 

your  father's  square  about  his.  He  keeps  them 
herded  up  on  his  own  range.  We  may  not  like  it, 
but  we  ce'tainly  aren't  going  to  the  length  of  at- 
tackin'  his  herd."  Farnum's  gaze  took  in  her  slen 
der  girlishness,  and  he  voiced  the  question  in  his 
mind.  "How  in  time  do  you  happen  to  be  sheep- 
herding  all  by  your  lone  a  thousand  miles  from  no 
where,  Miss  Lee?" 

She  explained  the  circumstances  after  she  had 
moved  forward  to  warm  herself  by  the  fire.  For 
already  night  was  bringing  a  chill  breeze  with  it. 
The  man  cooking  the  coffee  looked  up  and  nodded 
pleasantly,  continuing  his  work.  Norris  dragged 
up  a  couple  of  saddle  blankets  and  spread  them  on 
the  ground  for  her  to  sit  upon. 

"You  don't  have  to  do  a  thing  but  boss  this  out 
fit,"  he  told  her  with  his  gay  smile.  "You're  queen 
of  the  range  to-night,  and  we're  your  herders  or 
your  punchers,  whichever  you  want  to  call  us.  To 
morrow  morning  two  of  us  are  going  to  drive  these 
sheep  on  to  the  trading  post  for  you,  and  the  other 
one  is  going  to  see  you  safe  back  home.  It's  all 
arranged." 

They  were  as  good  as  his  word.  She  could  not 
move  from  her  place  to  help  herself.  It  was  their 
pleasure  to  wait  upon  her  as  if  she  had  really  been 
a  queen  and  they  her  subjects.  Melissy  was  very 
tired,  but  she  enjoyed  their  deference  greatly.  She 
was  still  young  enough  to  find  delight  in  the  fact 
that  three  young  and  more  or  less  good-looking  meo 


130  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

were  vying  with  each  other  to  anticipate  her  needs. 

Like  them,  she  ate  and  drank  ravenously  of  the 
sandwiches  and  the  strong  coffee,  though  before  the 
meal  was  over  she  found  herself  nodding  drowsily. 
The  tactful  courtesy  of  these  rough  fellows  was  per 
fect.  They  got  the  best  they  had  for  her  of  their 
blankets,  dragged  a  pinon  root  to  feed  the  glowing 
coals,  and  with  cheerful  farewells  of  "Buenos 
Noches"  retired  around  a  bend  in  the  canon  and 
lit  another  fire  for  themselves. 

The  girl  snuggled  down  into  the  warmth  of  the 
blankets  and  stretched  her  weary  limbs  in  delicious 
rest.  She  did  not  mean  to  go  to  sleep  for  a  long 
time.  She  had  much  to  think  about.  So  she  looked 
up  the  black  sheer  caiion  walls  to  the  deep  blue, 
starry  sky  above,  and  relived  her  day  in  memory. 

A  strange  excitement  tingled  through  her,  born 
of  shame  and  shyness  and  fear,  and  of  something 
else  she  did  not  understand,  something  which  had 
lain  banked  in  her  nature  like  a  fire  since  childhood 
and  now  threw  forth  its  first  flame  of  heat.  What 
did  it  mean,  that  passionate  fierceness  with  which 
her  lips  had  clung  to  his  ?  She  liked  him,  of  course, 
but  surely  liking  would  not  explain  the  pulse  that 
her  first  kiss  had  sent  leaping  through  her  blood 
like  wine.  Did  she  love  him? 

Then  why  did  she  distrust  him?  Why  was  there 
fear  in  her  sober  second  thought  of  him?  Had 
she  done  wrong?  For  the  moment  all  her  maiden 
defenses  had  been  wiped  out  and  he  had  ridden 


^ BRAND    BLOTTERS 131 

roughshod  over  her  reserves.  But  somewhere  in 
her  a  bell  of  warning  was  ringing.  The  poignant 
sting  of  sex  appeal  had  come  home  to  her  for  the 
first  time.  Wherefore  in  this  frank  child  of  the 
wilderness  had  been  born  a  shy  shame,  a  vague 
trembling  for  herself  that  marked  a  change.  At 
sunrise  she  had  been  still  treading  gayly  the  prim 
rose  path  of  childhood;  at  sunset  she  had  entered 
upon  her  heritage  of  womanhood. 

The  sun  had  climbed  high  and  was  peering  down 
the  walls  of  the  gulch  when  she  awoke.  She  did 
not  at  once  realize  where  she  was,  but  came  pres 
ently  to  a  blinking  consciousness  of  her  surround 
ings.  The  rock  wall  on  one  side  was  still  shadowed, 
while  the  painted  side  of  the  other  was  warm  with 
the  light  which  poured  upon  it.  The  Gothic  spires, 
the  Moorish  domes,  the  weird  and  mysterious  caves, 
which  last  night  had  given  more  than  a  touch  of 
awe  to  her  majestic  bedchamber,  now  looked  a  good 
deal  less  like  the  ruins  of  mediaeval  castles  and  the 
homes  of  elfin  sprites  and  gnomes. 

"Buenos  dios,  muchacha"  a  voice  called  cheerfully 
to  her. 

She  did  not  need  to  turn  to  know  to  whom  it 
belonged.  Among  a  thousand  she  would  have  rec 
ognized  its  tone  of  vibrant  warmth. 

"Buenos''  she  answered,  and,  rising  hurriedly, 
she  fled  to  rearrange  her  hair  and  dress. 

It  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  that  she 
reappeared,  her  thick  coils  of  ebon-hued  tresses  shin- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


ing  in  the  sun,  her  skirt  smoothed  to  her  satisfac 
tion,  and  the  effects  of  feminine  touches  otherwise 
visible  upon  her  fresh,  cool  person. 

"Breakfast  is  served,"  Norris  sang  out. 

"Dinner  would  be  nearer  it/'  she  laughed.  "Why 
in  the  world  didn't  you  boys  waken  me?  What 
time  is  it,  anyhow?" 

"It's  not  very  late  —  a  little  past  noon  maybe. 
You  were  all  tired  out  with  your  tramp  yesterday. 
I  didn't  see  why  you  shouldn't  have  your  sleep  out." 

He  was  pouring  a  cup  of  black  coffee  for  her 
from  the  smoky  pot,  and  she  looked  around  expec 
tantly  for  the  others.  Simultaneously  she  remem 
bered  that  she  had  not  heard  the  bleating  of  the 
sheep. 

"Where  are  the  others  —  Mr.  Farnum  and  Sam? 
And  have  you  the  sheep  all  gagged?"  she  laughed. 

He  gave  her  that  odd  look  of  smoldering  eyes 
behind  half-shut  lids. 

"The  boys  have  gone  on  to  finish  the  drive  for 
you.  They  started  before  sun-up  this  morning. 
I'm  elected  to  see  you  back  home  safely." 

"But  -  " 

Her  protest  died  unspoken.  She  could  not  very 
well  frame  it  in  words,  and  before  his  bold,  pos 
sessive  eyes  the  girl's  long,  dark  lashes  wavered  to 
the  cheeks  into  which  the  hot  blood  was  beating. 
Nevertheless,  the  feeling  existed  that  she  wished 
one  of  the  others  had  stayed  instead  of  him.  It 
was  born,  no  doubt,  partly  of  the  wave  of  shyness 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  183 

running  through  her,  but  partly  too  of  instinctive 
maidenly  resistance  to  something  in  his  look,  in  the 
assurance  of  his  manner,  that  seemed  to  claim  too 
much.  Last  night  he  had  taken  her  by  storm  and 
at  advantage.  Something  of  shame  stirred  in  her 
that  he  had  found  her  so  easy  a  conquest,  something 
too  of  a  new  vague  fear  of  herself.  She  resented 
the  fact  that  he  could  so  move  her,  even  though 
she  still  felt  the  charm  of  his  personal  presence. 
She  meant  to  hold  herself  in  abeyance,  to  make 
sure  of  herself  and  of  him  before  she  went  further. 

But  the  cowpuncher  had  no  intention  of  letting 
her  regain  so  fully  control  of  her  emotions.  Ex 
perience  of  more  than  one  young  woman  had  taught 
him  that  scruples  were  likely  to  assert  themselves 
after  reflection,  and  he  purposed  giving  her  no  time 
for  that  to-day. 

He  did  not  count  in  vain  upon  the  intimacy  of 
companionship  forced  upon  them  by  the  circum 
stances,  nor  upon  the  skill  with  which  he  knew 
how  to  make  the  most  of  his  manifold  attractions. 
His  role  was  that  of  the  comrade,  gay  with  good 
spirits  and  warm  with  friendliness,  solicitous  of  her 
needs,  but  not  oppressively  so.  If  her  glimpse  of 
him  at  breakfast  had  given  the  girl  a  vague  alarm, 
she  laughed  her  fears  away  later  before  his  open 
good  humor. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  he  had  been  a  part 
of  that  big  world  "back  in  the  States,"  peopled  so 
generously  by  her  unfettered  imagination.  He  knew 


£34  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

how  to  talk,  and  entertainingly,  of  books  and  peo 
ple,  of  events  and  places  he  had  known.  She  had 
not  knowledge  enough  of  life  to  doubt  his  stories, 
nor  did  she  resent  it  that  he  spoke  of  this  her  native 
section  with  the  slighting  manner  of  one  who  pat 
ronized  it  with  his  presence.  Though  she  loved 
passionately  her  Arizona,  she  guessed  its  crudeness, 
and  her  fancy  magnified  the  wonders  of  that  south 
ern  civilization  from  which  it  was  so  far  cut  off. 

Farnum  had  left  his  horse  for  the  girl,  and  after 
breakfast  the  cowpuncher  saddled  the  broncos  and 
brought  them  up.  Melissy  had  washed  the  dishes, 
filled  his  canteen,  and  packed  the  saddle  bags.  Soon 
they  were  off,  climbing  slowly  the  trail  that  led  up 
the  canon  wall.  She  saw  the  carcass  of  a  dead 
sheep  lying  on  the  rocks  half  way  down  the  cliff, 
and  had  spoken  of  it  before  she  could  stop  herself, 

"What  is  that?    Isn't  it •?" 

"Looks  to  me  like  a  boulder/'  lied  her  escort  un- 
blushingly.  There  was  no  use,  he  judged,  in  re 
calling  unpleasant  memories. 

Nor  did  she  long  remember.  The  dry,  exhilarat 
ing  sunshine  and  the  sting  of  gentle,  wide-swept 
breezes,  the  pleasure  of  swift  motion  and  the  ring 
of  that  exultingly  boyish  voice  beside  her,  combined 
to  call  the  youth  in  her  to  rejoice.  Firm  in  the  sad 
dle  she  rode,  as  graceful  a  picture  of  piquant  girl 
hood  as  could  be  conceived,  thrilling  to  the  silent 
voices  of  the  desert.  They  traveled  in  a  sunlit  sea 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  135 

of  space,  under  a  sky  of  blue,  in  which  tenuous 
cloud  lakes  floated.  Once  they  came  on  a  small 
bunch  of  hill  cattle  which  went  flying  like  deer  into 
the  covert  of  a  dra\v.  A  rattlesnake  above  a  prairie 
dog's  hole  slid  into  the  mesquit.  A  swift  watched 
them  from  the  top  of  a  smooth  rock,  motionless  so 
long  as  they  could  see.  She  loved  it  all,  this  im 
mense,  deserted  world  of  space  filled  with  its  mul 
titudinous  dwellers. 

They  unsaddled  at  Dead  Cow  Creek,  hobbled  the 
ponies,  and  ate  supper.  Norris  seemed  in  no  hurry 
to  resaddle.  He  lay  stretched  carelessly  at  full 
length,  his  eyes  upon  her  with  veiled  admiration. 
She  sat  upright,  her  gaze  on  the  sunset  with  its 
splashes  of  topaz  and  crimson  and  saffron,  watch 
ing  the  tints  soften  and  mellow  as  dusk  fell.  Every 
minute  now  brought  its  swift  quota  of  changing 
beauty.  A  violet  haze  enveloped  the  purple  moun 
tains,  and  in  the  crotch  of  the  hills  swam  a  lake  of 
indigo.  The  raw,  untempered  glare  of  the  sun  was 
giving  place  to  a  limitless  pour  of  silvery  moon 
light. 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  the  soft  loveliness  of  the 
hour  when  she  turned  them  upon  her  companioa 
He  answered  promptly  her  unspoken  question. 

"You  bet  it  is!  A  night  for  the  gods — or  for 
lovers." 

He  said  it  in  a  murmur,  his  eyes  full  on  hers, 
and  his  look  wrenched  her  from  her  mood.  The 
mask  of  comradeship  was  gone.  He  looked  at  her 


136  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

^hungrily,  as  might  a  lover  to  whom  all  spiritual 
"^heights  were  denied. 

Her  sooty  lashes  fell  before  this  sinister  spirit 
'she  had  evoked,  but  were  raised  instantly  at  the 
sound  of  him  drawing  his  body  toward  her.  Inevi 
tably  there  was  a  good  deal  of  the  young  animal  in 
her  superbly  healthy  body.  She  had  been  cl«se  to 
nature  all  day,  the  riotous  passion  of  spring  flowing 
free  in  her  as  in  the  warm  earth  herself.  But  the 
magic  of  the  mystic  hills  had  lifted  her  beyond  the 
merely  personal.  Some  sense  of  grossness  in  him 
for  the  first  time  seared  across  her  brain.  She 
started  up,  and  her  face  told  him  she  had  taken 
alarm. 

"We  must  be  going/'  she  cried. 

He  got  to  his  feet.     "No  hurry,  sweetheart." 

The  look  in  his  face  startled  her.  It  was  new 
to  her  in  her  experience  of  men.  Never  before  had 
she  met  elemental  lust. 

"You're  near  enough,"  she  cautioned  sharply. 

He  cursed  softly  his  maladroitness. 

"I  was  nearer  last  night,  honey,"  he  reminded 
her. 

"Last  night  isn't  to-night" 

He  hesitated.  Should  he  rush  her  defenses,  bury 
her  protests  in  kisses?  Or  should  he  talk  her  out 
of  this  harsh  mood?  Last  night  she  had  been  his. 
There  were  moments  during  the  day  when  she  had 
responded  to  him  as  a  musical  instrument  does  to 
skilled  fingers.  But  for  the  moment  his  power 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 137 

over  her  was  gone.    And  he  was  impatient  of  delay. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  he  asked  roughly. 

"We'll  start  at  once." 

"No." 

"Yes." 

Frightened  though  she  was,  her  gaze  held  stead 
ily  to  his.  It  was  the  same  instinct  in  her  that 
makes  one  look  a  dangerous  wild  beast  straight  in 
the  eye. 

"What's  got  into  you?"  he  demanded  sullenly. 

"I'm  going  home." 

"After  a  while." 

"Now." 

"I  reckon  not  just  yet.     It's  my  say-so." 

"Don't  you  dare  stop  me." 

The  passion  in  him  warred  with  prudence.  He 
temporized.  "Why,  honey !  I'm  the  man  that  loves 
you." 

She  would  not  see  his  outstretched  hands. 

"Then  saddle  my  horse." 

"By  God,  no!    You're  going  to  listen  to  me." 

His  anger  ripped  out  unexpectedly,  even  to  him. 
Whatever  fear  she  felt,  the  girl  crushed  down.  He 
must  not  know  her  heart  was  drowned  in  terror. 

"I'll  listen  after  we've  started." 

He  cursed  her  fickleness.  "What's  ailirr*  yon, 
girl?  I  ain't  a  man  to  be  put  off  this  way." 

"Don't  forget  you're  in  Arizona,"  she  warned. 

He  understood  what  she  meant.  In  the  ranch 
country  no  man  could  with  impunity  insult  a  woman. 


138  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Standing  defiantly  before  him,  her  pliant  form 
very  straight,  the  underlying  blood  beating  softly 
under  the  golden  brown  of  her  cheeks,  one  of  the 
thick  braids  of  her  heavy,  blue-black  hair  falling 
across  the  breast  that  rose  and  fell  a  little  fast,  she 
was  no  less  than  a  challenge  of  Nature  to  him.  He 
looked  into  a  mobile  face  as  daring  and  as  pas 
sionate  as  his  own,  warm  with  the  life  of  innocent 
youth,  and  the  dark  blood  mantled  his  face. 

"Saddle  the  horses,"  she  commanded. 

"When  I  get  good  and  ready." 

"Now." 

"No,  ma'am.    We're  going  to  have  a  talk  first." 

She  walked  across  to  the  place  where  her  pony 
grazed,  slipped  on  the  bridle,  and  brought  the  ani 
mal  back  to  the  saddle.  Norris  watched  her  fitting 
the  blankets  and  tightening  the  cinch  without  a 
word,  his  face  growing  blacker  every  moment.  Be 
fore  she  could  start  he  strode  forward  and  caught 
the  rein. 

"I've  got  something  to  say  to  you,"  he  told  her 
rudely.  "You're  not  going  now.  So  that's  all 
about  it." 

Her  lips  tightened.     "Let  go  of  my  horse." 

"We'll  talk  first." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  force  me  to  stay  here?" 

"You're  going  to  hear  what  I've  got  to  say." 

"You  bully!" 

"I'll  tell  what  I  know— Miss  Hold-up." 

"Tell  it!"  she  cried. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  139 

He  laughed  harshly,  his  narrowed  eyes  watching 
her  closely.  "If  you  throw  me  down  now,  I'll 
ce'tainly  tell  it.  Be  reasonable,  girl." 

"Let  go  my  rein!" 

"I've  had  enough  of  this.  Tumble  off  that  horse, 
or  I'll  pull  you  off." 

Her  dark  eyes  flashed  scorn  of  him.  "You  cow 
ard!  Do  you  think  I'm  afraid  of  you?  Stand 
back!" 

The  man  looked  long  at  her,  his  teeth  set;  then 
caught  at  her  strong  little  wrist.  With  a  quick 
wrench  she  freed  it,  her  eyes  glowing  like  live 
coals. 

"You  dare!"  she  panted. 

Her  quirt  rose  and  fell,  the  lash  burning  his  wrist 
like  a  band  of  fire.  With  a  furious  oath  he  dropped 
his  hand  from  the  rein.  Like  a  flash  she  was  off, 
had  dug  her  heels  home,  and  was  galloping  into 
the  moonlight  recklessly  as  fast  as  she  could  send 
forward  her  pony.  Stark  terror  had  her  by  the 
throat.  The  fear  of  him  flooded  her  whole  being. 
Not  till  the  drumming  hoofs  had  carried  her  far 
did  other  emotions  move  her. 

She  was  furious  with  him,  and  with  herself  for 
having  been  imposed  upon  by  him.  His  beauty,  his 
grace,  his  debonair  manner — they  wrere  all  hateful 
to  her  now.  She  had  thought  him  a  god  among 
men,  and  he  was  of  common  clay.  It  was  her  van 
ity  was  wounded,  not  her  heart.  She  scourged  her 
self  because  she  had  been  so  easily  deceived,  because 


140  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

she  had  let  herself  become  a  victim  of  his  good 
looks  and  his  impudence.  For  that  she  had  let  him 
kiss  her — yes,  and  had  returned  his  kiss — she  was 
heartily  contemptuous  of  herself.  Always  she  had 
held  herself  with  an  instinctive  pride,  but  in  her  pas 
sion  of  abandonment  the  tears  confessed  now  that 
this  pride  had  been  humbled  to  the  dust. 

This  gusty  weather  of  the  spirit,  now  of  chas 
tened  pride  and  now  of  bitter  anger,  carried  her 
even  through  the  group  of  live-oaks  which  looked 
down  upon  the  silent  houses  of  the  ranch,  lying  in 
a  sea  of  splendid  moon-beat.  She  was  so  much  less 
confident  of  herself  than  usual  that  she  made  up  her 
mind  to  tell  her  father  the  whole  story  of  the  hold 
up  and  of  what  this  man  had  threatened. 

This  resolution  comforted  her,  and  it  was  with 
something  approaching  calmness  that  she  rode  past 
the  corral  fence  and  swung  from  the  saddle  in  front 
of  the  house. 


CHAPTER   X 

JACK  GOES  TO  THE  HEAD  OF  THE  CLASS 

SHE  trailed  the  bridle  reins,  went  up  the  porch 
steps,  and  drew  off  her  gauntlets.     Her  hand 
was  outstretched  to  open  the  door  when  her 
gaze    fell   upon   a   large   bill   tacked   to   the   wall. 
Swiftly  she  read  it  through,  and,  having  read  it, 
remained  in  suspended  motion.     For  the  first  time 
she  fully  realized  the  danger  and  the  penalty  that 
confronted  her. 

ONE  THOUSAND  DOLLARS 
WILL  BE  PAID  BY  THOMAS  L.  MORSE 
For  the  arrest  and  conviction  of  each  of 
the  men  who  were  implicated  in  the  rob 
bery  of  the  Fort  Allison  stage  on  April 
twenty-seventh  last.  A  further  reward  of 
$1000  will  be  paid  for  the  recovery  of  the 
bullion  stolen. 

This  was  what  she  read,  and  her  eye  was  run 
ning  over  it  a  second  time  when  she  heard  the 
jingle  of  a  spur  approaching. 

"We're  red-hot  after  them,  you  see,  Miss  Lee," 
141 


142 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

a  mocking  voice  drawled.  "If  you  want  to  round 
up  a  thousand  plunks,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  tell 
me  who  Mr.  Hold-up  is." 

He  laughed  quietly,  as  if  it  were  a  joke,  but  the 
girl  answered  with  a  flush.  "Is  that  all?" 

"That's  all." 

"If  I  knew,  do  you  suppose  I  would  tell  for  five 
thousand — or  ten  thousand?" 

For  some  reason  this  seemed  to  give  him  sar 
donic  amusement.  "No,  I  don't  suppose  you 
would." 

"You'll  have  to  catch  him  yourself  if  you  want 
him.  I'm  not  in  that  business,  Mr.  Flatray." 

"I  am.  Sorry  you  don't  like  the  business,  Miss 
Lee."  He  added  dryly:  "But  then  you  always 
were  hard  to  please.  You  weren't  satisfied  when 
I  was  a  rustler." 

Her  eyes  swept  him  with  a  look,  whether  of  re 
proach  or  contempt  he  was  not  sure.  But  the  hard 
derision  of  his  gaze  did  not  soften.  Mentally  as 
well  as  physically  he  was  a  product  of  the  sun  and 
the  wind,  as  tough  and  unyielding  as  a  greasewood 
sapling.  For  a  friend  he  would  go  the  limit,  and 
he  could  not  forgive  her  that  she  had  distrusted 
him. 

"But  mebbe  you'd  prefer  it  if  I  was  rustling 
stages,"  he  went  on,  looking  straight  at  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"What  about?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  143 

"Suppose  we  step  around  to  the  side  of  the  house. 
We'll  be  freer  from  interruption  there." 

He  led  the  way,  taking  her  consent  for  granted. 
With  him  he  carried  a  chair  for  her  from  the 
porch. 

"If  you'll  be  as  brief  as  possible,  Mr.  Flatray. 
I've  been  in  the  desert  two  days  and  want  to  change 
my  clothes." 

"I'll  not  detain  you.  It's  about  this  gold  rob 
bery." 

"Yes." 

She  could  not  take  her  eyes  from  him.  Some 
thing  told  her  that  he  knew  her  secret,  or  part  of 
it.  Her  heart  was  fluttering  like  a  caged  thrush. 

"Shall  we  begin  at  the  beginning?" 

"If  you  like." 

"Or  in  the  middle,   say." 

"If  only  you'll  begin  anywhere,"  she  said  im 
patiently. 

"How  will  this  do  for  a  beginning,  then?  'One 
thousand  dollars  will  be  paid  by  Thomas  L.  Morse 
for  the  arrest  and  conviction  of  each  of  the  men 
who  were  implicated  in  the  robbery  of  the  Fort 
Allison  stage  on  April  twenty-seventh  last.' ' 

She  was  shaken,  there  was  no  denying  it.  He 
could  see  the  ebb  of  blood  from  her  cheeks,  the 
sudden  stiffening  of  the  slender  figure. 

She  did  not  speak  until  she  had  control  of  her 
voice.  "Dear  mel  What  has  all  that  to  do  with 
me?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"A  good  deal,  I'm  afraid.  You  know  how  much, 
better  than  I  do." 

"Perhaps  I'm  stupid.  You'll  have  to  be  a  great 
deal  clearer  before  I  can  understand  you." 

"I've  noticed  that  it's  a  lot  easier  to  understand 
what  you  want  to  than  what  you  don't  want  to." 

Sharply  a  thought  smote  her.  "Have  you  seen 
Phil  Norris  lately?" 

"No,  I  haven't.  Do  you  think  it  likely  that  he 
would  confess?" 

"Confess?"  she  faltered. 

"I  see  I'll  have  to  start  at  the  beginning,  after 
all.  It's  pretty  hard  to  say  just  where  that  is.  It 
might  be  when  Morse  got  hold  of  your  father's 
claim,  or  another  fellow  might  say  it  was  when 
the  Boone-Bellamy  feud  began,  and  that  is  a  mighty 
long  time  ago." 

"The  Boone-Bellamy  feud,"  echoed  the  girl. 

"Yes.  The  real  name  of  our  friend  Norris  is 
Dune  Boone." 

"He's  no  friend  of  mine."  She  flamed  it  out 
with  such  intensity  that  he  was  surprised. 

"Glad  to  hear  it.  I  can  tell  you,  then,  that  he's 
a  bad  lot.  He  was  driven  out  of  Arkansas  after 
a  suspected  murder.  It  was  a  killing  from  ambush. 
They  couldn't  quite  hang  it  on  him,  but  he  lit  a 
shuck  to  save  his  skin  from  lynchers.  At  that  time 
he  was  a  boy.  Couldn't  have  been  more  than  seven 
teen." 

"Who  did  he  kill?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  145 

"One  of  the  Bellamy  faction.  The  real  name  of 
T.  L.  Morse  is " 

"—Richard  Bellamy." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"I've  known  it  since  the  first  day  I  met  him." 

"Known  that  he  was  wanted  for  murder  in  Ar 
kansas?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  protected  him?" 

"I  had  a  reason."  She  did  not  explain  that  her 
reason  was  Jack  Flatray,  between  whom  and  the 
consequences  of  his  rustling  she  had  stood. 

He  pondered  that  a  moment.  "Well,  Morse,  or 
Bellamy,  told  me  all  about  it.  Now  that  Boone 
has  recognized  him,  the  game  is  up.  He's  ready 
to  go  back  and  stand  trial  if  he  must.  I've  com 
municated  with  the  authorities  in  Arkansas  and 
I'll  hear  from  them  in  a  day  or  two." 

"What  has  this  to  do  with  the  hold-up?" 

"That's  right,  the  hold-up.  Well,  this  fellow 
Boone  got  your  father  to  drinking,  and  then  sprung 
it  on  him  to  rob  the  stage  when  the  bullion  was 
being  shipped.  Somehow  Boone  had  got  ins\de  in 
formation  about  when  this  was  to  be.  He  had  been 
nosing  around  up  at  the  mine,  and  may  have  over 
heard  something.  O'  course  we  know  what  your 
father  would  have  done  if  he  hadn't  been  drinking. 
He's  straight  as  a  string,  even  if  he  does  go  off  like 
powder.  But  when  a  man's  making  a  blue  blotter 


146  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

of  himself,  things  don't  look  the  same  to  him.  Any 
how  he  went  in." 

"He  didn't.  I  can  prove  he  didn't,"  burst  from 
Melissy's  lips. 

"Be  glad  to  hear  your  proof  later.  He  ce'tainly 
planned  the  hold-up.  Jim  Budd  overheard  him." 

"Did  Jim  tell  you  that?" 

"Don't  blame  him  for  that.  He  didn't  mean  to 
tell,  but  I  wound  him  up  so  he  couldn't  get  away 
from  it.  I'll  show  you  later  why  he  couldn't." 

"I'm  sure  you  must  have  been  very  busy,  spying 
and  everything,"  she  told  him  bitterly. 

"I've  kept  moving.  But  to  get  back  to  the  point. 
Your  father  and  Boone  were  on  the  ground  where 
the  stage  was  robbed  either  at  the  time  or  right 
after.  Their  tracks  were  all  over  there.  Then  they 
got  on  their  horses  and  rode  up  the  lateral." 

"But  they  couldn't.  The  ditch  was  full,"  broke 
from  the  girl. 

"You're  right  it  was.  You  must  be  some  observ 
ing  to  know  when  that  ditch  is  full  and  empty  to 
an  hour.  I  reckon  you've  got  an  almanac  of  tides," 
he  said  ironically. 

She  bit  her  lip  with  chagrin,  "I  just  happened 
to  notice." 

"Some  folks  are  more  noticing  than  others.  But 
you're  surely  right  They  came  up  the  ditch  one  on 
each  side.  Now,  why  one  on  each  side,  do  you 
reckon  T* 

Melissy  hid  the  dread  that  was  flooding  her  heart. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  147 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  You  know  everything 
else.  I  suppose  you  do  that,  too,  if  they  really  did" 

"They  had  their  reasons,  but  we  won't  go  into 
that  now.  First  off  when  they  reach  the  house 
they  take  a  bunch  of  sheep  down  to  the  ditch  to 
water  them.  Now,  why?" 

"Why,  unless  because  they  needed  water?" 

"We'll  let  that  go  into  the  discard  too  just  now. 
Let's  suppose  your  father  and  Boone  dumped  the 
gold  box  down  into  the  creek  somewhere  after  they 
had  robbed  the  stage.  Suppose  they  had  a  partner 
up  at  the  head-gates.  W~hen  the  signal  is  given 
down  comes  the  water,  and  the  box  is  covered  by 
it.  Mebbe  that  night  they  take  it  away  and  bury 
it  somewhere  else." 

The  girl  began  to  breathe  again.  He  knew  a 
good  deal,  but  he  was  still  off  the  track  in  the  main 
points. 

"And  who  is  this  partner  up  at  the  canal?  Have 
you  got  him  located  too?" 

"I  might  guess." 

"WTell  ?"— impatiently. 

"A  young  lady  hailing  from  this  hacienda  was 
out  gathering  flowers  all  mo'ning.  She  was  in  her 
runabout.  The  tracks  led  straight  from  here  to 
the  head-gates.  I  followed  them  through  the  sands, 
There's  a  little  break  in  one  of  the  rubber  tires. 
You'll  find  that  break  mark  every  eight  feet  or  so 
in  the  sand  wash." 

"I  opened  the  head-gates,  then,  did  I  ?" 


148  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"It  looks  that  way,  doesn't  it?" 

"At  a  signal  from  father?" 

"I  reckon." 

"And  that's  all  the  evidence  you've  got  against 
him  and  me?"  she  demanded,  still  outwardly  scorn 
ful,  but  very  much  afraid  at  heart. 

"Oh,  no,  that  ain't  all,  Miss  Lee.  Somebody 
locked  the  Chink  in  during  this  play.  He's  still 
wondering  why." 

"He  dreamed  it.  Very  likely  he  had  been  rolling 
a  pill." 

"Did  I  dream  this  too?"  From  his  coat  pocket 
he  drew  the  piece  of  black  shirting  she  had  used  as 
a  mask.  "I  found  it  in  the  room  where  your  father 
put  me  up  that  first  night  I  stayed  here.  It  was 
your  brother  Dick's  room,  and  this  came  from  the 
pocket  of  a  shirt  hanging  in  the  closet.  Now,  who 
do  you  reckon  put  it  there?" 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  knew  what  it 
was  to  feel  faint.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words 
would  not  come  from  her  parched  throat.  How 
could  he  be  so  hard  and  cruel,  this  man  who  had 
once  been  her  best  friend?  How  could  he  stand 
there  so  like  a  machine  in  his  relentlessness  ? 

"We — we  used  to — to  play  at  hold-up  when  he 
was  a  boy,"  she  gasped. 

He  shook  his  head.  "No,  I  reckon  that  won't  go. 
You  see,  I've  found  the  piece  this  was  torn  from, 
and  I  found  it  in  your  father's  coat.  I  went  into 
his  room  on  tiptoe  that  same  hour.  The  coat  was 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  149 

on  the  bed.  He  had  gone  downstairs  for  a  minute 
and  left  it  there.  Likely  he  hadn't  found  a  good 
chance  to  burn  it  yet."  Taking  the  two  pieces,  he 
fitted  them  together  and  held  them  up.  "They 
match  exactly,  you  see.  Did  your  father  used  to 
play  with  you  too  when  he  was  a  boy?" 

He  asked  this  with  what  seemed  to  her  tortured 
soul  like  silken  cruelty.  She  had  no  answer,  none 
at  least  that  would  avail.  Desperately  she  snatched 
at  a  straw. 

"All  this  isn't  proof.  It's  mere  surmise.  Some 
one's  tracks  were  found  by  you.  How  do  you  know 
they  were  father's?" 

"I've  got  that  cinched  too.  I  took  his  boots  and 
measured  them." 

"Then  where's  the  gold,  if  he  took  it?  It  must 
be  somewhere.  Where  is  it?" 

"Now  I'm  going  up  to  the  head  of  the  class, 
ma'am.  The  gold — why,  that's  a  dead  easy  one. 
Near  as  I  can  make  out,  I'm  sitting  on  it  right  non\" 

She  gave  a  startled  little  cry  that  died  in  her 
throat. 

"Yes,  it's  ce'tainly  a  valuable  washstand.  Chip 
pendale  furniture  ain't  in  it  with  this  kind.  I  rockon 
the  king  of  England's  is  ace  high  against  a  straight 
flush  when  it  bucks  up  against  yours." 

Melissy  threw  up  her  cards.  "How  did  you  find 
out?"  she  asked  hoarsely. 

The  deputy  forced  her  to  commit  herself  more 
definitely.  "Find  out  what?" 


150  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Where  I  put  the  box." 

"I'll  go  back  and  answer  some  of  those  other 
questions  first.  I  might  as  well  own  up  that  I  knew 
all  the  time  your  father  didn't  hold  up  the  stage." 

"You  did?'1 

"He's  no  fool.  He  wouldn't  leave  his  tracks  all 
over  the  place  where  he  had  just  held  up  a  stage. 
He  might  jest  as  well  have  left  a  signed  note  say 
ing  he  had  done  it.  No,  that  didn't  look  like  Champ 
Lee  to  me.  It  seemed  more  likely  he'd  arrived  after 
the  show  than  before.  It  wouldn't  be  like  him, 
either,  to  go  plowing  up  the  side  of  the  ditch,  with 
his  partner  on  the  other  side,  making  a  trail  that 
a  blind  man  could  follow  in  the  night.  Soon  as  I 
knew  Lee  and  Boone  made  those  tracks,  I  had  it 
cinched  that  they  were  following  the  lateral  to  see 
where  the  robber  was  going.  They  had  come  to 
the  same  conclusion  I  had,  that  there  wasn't  any 
way  of  escape  except  by  that  empty  lateral,  assum 
ing  it  had  been  empty.  The  only  point  was  to  find 
out  where  the  hold-up  left  the  lateral.  That's  why 
they  rode  one  on  each  side  of  it.  They  weren't 
missing  any  bets,  you  see." 

"And  that's  why  they  drove  the  sheep  down  to 
water — to  hide  the  wheel  tracks.  I  couldn't  under 
stand  that." 

"I  must  'a'  been  right  on  their  heels,  for  they 
were  jest  getting  the  trotters  out  of  the  corral  when 
I  reached  the  place  where  your  rig  left  the  water. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 151 

'Course  I  fell  back  into  the  brush  and  circled  around 
so  as  to  hit  the  store  in  front." 

"But  if  dad  knew  all  the  time,  I  don't  see — surely, 
he  wouldn't  have  come  right  after  me  and  made 
plain  the  way  I  escaped." 

"That's  the  point.  He  didn't  know.  I  reckon 
he  was  sort  of  guessing  around  in  the  dark,  plumb 
puzzled ;  couldn't  find  the  switch  at  all  at  first.  Then 
it  come  to  him,  and  he  thought  of  the  sheep  to 
blind  the  trail.  If  I'd  been  half  a  hour  later  he 
would  have  got  away  with  it  too.  No,  if  he  had 
guessed  that  you  were  in  the  hold-up,  him  and 
Boone  would  have  hiked  right  out  on  a  false  trail 
and  led  us  into  the  Galiuros.  Having  no  notion  of 
it  at  first,  he  trails  you  down." 

"And  the  gold — how  did  you  find  that?" 

"I  knew  it  was  either  right  around  the  place  or 
else  you  had  taken  it  on  with  you  when  you  went 
to  the  head-gates  and  buried  it  up  there  somewhere. 
Next  day  I  followed  your  tracks  and  couldn't  find 
any  place  where  you  might  have  left  it.  I  knew 
how  clever  you  were  by  the  way  you  planned  your 
getaway.  Struck  me  as  mighty  likely  that  you  had 
left  it  lying  around  in  plain  view  somewhere.  If 
you  had  dumped  it  out  of  the  box  into  a  sack,  the 
box  must  be  somewhere.  You  hadn't  had  time  to 
burn  it  before  the  stage  got  back.  I  drifted  back 
to  your  kindling  pile,  where  all  the  old  boxes  from 
the  store  are  lying.  I  happened  to  notice  a  brass 
tack  in  one  near  the  end;  then  the  marks  of  the 


152  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

tack  heads  where  they  had  pressed  against  the  wood. 
I  figured  you  might  have  substituted  one  box  for 
another,  and  inside  of  ten  minutes  I  stumbled 
against  your  washstand  and  didn't  budge  it.  Then 
I  didn't  have  to  look  any  further." 

"I've  been  trying  to  get  a  chance  to  move  it  and 
haven't  ever  found  one.  You  were  always  coming 
around  the  corner  on  me,"  she  explained. 

"Sorry  I  incommoded  you,"  he  laughed.  "But 
it's  too  heavy  for  a  lady  to  lift  alone,  anyhow.  I 
don't  see  how  you  managed  it  this  far." 

"I'm  pretty  strong,"  she  said  quietly. 

She  had  no  hope  of  escape  from  the  net  of  evi 
dence  in  which  he  had  entangled  her.  It  was  char 
acteristic  of  her  that  she  would  not  stoop  to  tricks 
to  stir  his  pity.  Deep  in  her  heart  she  knew  now 
that  she  had  wronged  him  when  she  had  suspected 
him  of  being  a  rustler.  He  could  not  be.  It  was 
not  in  the  man's  character.  But  she  would  ask  no 
mercy  of  him.  All  her  pride  rose  to  meet  his.  She 
would  show  him  how  game  she  could  be.  What 
she  had  sown  she  would  reap.  Nor  would  it  have 
been  any  use  to  beseech  him  to  spare  her.  He  was 
a  hard  man,  she  told  herself.  Not  even  a  fool 
could  have  read  any  weakness  in  the  quiet  gray 
eyes  that  looked  so  steadily  into  hers.  In  his  voice 
and  movements  there  was  a  certain  deliberation,  but 
this  had  nothing  to  do  with  indecision  of  charac 
ter.  He  would  do  his  duty  as  he  saw  it,  regardless 
of  whom  it  might  affect. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 153 

Melissy  stood  before  him  in  the  unconscious  at 
titude  of  distinction  she  often  fell  into  when  she 
was  moved,  head  thrown  back  so  as  to  bare  the 
rounded  throat  column,  brown  little  hands  folded 
in  front  of  her,  erectly  graceful  in  all  her  slender 
lines. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?"  she  asked. 

His  stone-cold  eyes  met  hers  steadily.  "It  ain't 
my  say-so.  I'm  going  to  put  it  up  to  Bellamy.  I 
don't  know  what  he'll  do." 

But,  cold  as  his  manner  was,  the  heart  of  the 
man  leaped  to  her  courage.  He  saw  her  worn  out, 
pathetically  fearful,  but  she  could  face  him  with 
that  still  little  smile  of  hers.  He  longed  to  take 
her  in  his  arms,  to  tell  her  it  would  be  all  right — • 
all  right. 

"There's  one  thing  that  troubles  me.  I  don't 
know  how  father  will  take  this.  You  know  how 
quick-tempered  he  is.  I'm  afraid  he'll  shoot  some 
body  or  do  something  rash  when  he  finds  out.  You 
must  let  me  be  alone  with  him  when  I  tell  him." 

He  nodded.  "I  been  thinking  of  that  myself. 
It  ain't  going  to  do  him  any  good  to  make  a  gun 
play.  I  have  a  notion  mebbe  this  thing  will  unravel 
itself  if  we  give  it  time.  It  will  only  make  things 
worse  for  him  to  go  off  half-cocked." 

"How  do  you  mean  it  may  unravel  itself?"  she 
asked. 

"Bellamy  is  a  whole  lot  better  man  than  folks 


154? BRAND    BLOTTERS  

give  him  credit  for  being.     I  expect  he  won't  be 
hard  on  you  when  he  knows  why  you  did  it." 

"And  why  did  I  do  it?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"Sho!  I  know  why  you  did  it.  Jim  Budd  told 
you  what  he  had  heard,  and  you  figured  you  could 
save  your  father  from  doing  it.  You  meant  to 
give  the  money  back,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  I  can't  prove  that  either  in  court  or 
to  Mr.  Bellamy." 

"You  don't  need  to  prove  it  to  me.  If  you  say 
so,  that's  enough,"  he  said  in  his  unenthusiastic 
voice. 

"But  you're  not  judge  and  jury,  and  you're  cer 
tainly  not  Mr.  Bellamy." 

"Scrape  Arizona  with  a  fine-tooth  comb  and  you 
couldn't  get  a  jury  to  convict  when  it's  *ip  against 
the  facts  in  this  case." 

At  this  she  brightened.  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Flat- 
ray."  And  naively  she  added  with  a  little  laugh: 
"Are  you  ready  to  put  the  handcuffs  on  me  yet?" 

He  looked  with  a  smile  at  her  outstretched  hands. 
"They  wouldn't  stay  on." 

"Don't    you    carry    them    in    sizes    to    fit    all/ 
criminals?" 

"I'll  have  to  put  you  on  parole." 

"I'll  break  it  and  climb  out  the  window.  Then 
I'll  run  off  with  this." 

She  indicated  the  box  of  treasure. 

"I  need  that  washstand  in  my  room.  I'm  going 
to  take  it  up  there  to-night,"  he  said. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  155 

"This  isn't  a  very  good  safety  deposit  vault," 
she  answered,  and,  nodding  a  careless  good-night, 
she  walked  away  in  her  slow-limbed,  graceful 
Southern  fashion. 

She  had  carried  it  off  to  the  last  without  breaking 
down,  but,  once  in  her  own  room,  the  girl's  face 
showed  haggard  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  one  thing 
to  jest  about  it  with  him ;  it  was  another  to  face  the 
facts  as  they  stood.  She  was  in  the  power  of  her 
father's  enemy,  the  man  whose  proffer  of  friend 
ship  they  had  rejected  with  scorn.  Her  pride  cried 
out  that  she  could  not  endure  mercy  from  him  even 
if  he  wished  to  extend  it.  Surely  there  must  be 
some  other  way  out  than  the  humiliation  of  begging 
him  not  to  prosecute.  She  could  see  none  but  one, 
and  that  was  infinitely  worse.  Yet  she  knew  it 
would  be  her  father's  first  impulsive  instinct  to  seek 
to  fight  her  out  of  her  trouble,  the  more  because  it 
was  through  him  that  it  had  fallen  upon  her.  At 
all  hazards  she  must  prevent  this. 


CHAPTER    XI 

A  CONVERSATION 

NOT  five  minutes  after  Melissy  had  left  the 
deputy  sheriff,  another  rider  galloped  up 
the  road.    Jack,  returning  from  his  room, 
where  he  had  left  the  box  of  gold  locked  up,  waited 
on  the  porch  to  see  who  this  might  be. 

The  horseman  proved  to  be  the  man  Norris,  or 
Boone,  and  in  a  thoroughly  bad  temper,  as  Jack 
soon  found  out. 

"Have  you  see  anything  of  'Lissie  Lee?"  he  de 
manded  immediately. 

"Miss  Lee  has  just  left  me.  She  has  gone  to 
her  room,"  answered  Flatray  quietly. 

"Well,  I  want  to  see  her/'  said  the  other  hoarsely. 

"I  reckon  you  better  postpone  it  to  to-morrow. 
She's  some  played  out  and  needs  sleep." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  see  her  now." 

Jack  turned,  still  all  gentleness,  and  called  to  Jim  •] 
Budd,  who  was  in  the  store. 

"Oh,  Jim!  Run  upstairs  and  knock  on  Miss  Me- 
lissy's  door  and  tell  her  Mr.  Norris  is  down  here. 
Ask  if  she  will  see  him  to-night." 

"You're  making  a  heap  of  formality  out  of  this, 
Mr.  Buttinsky,"  sneered  the  cowpuncher. 

156 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  157 

Jack  made  no  answer,  unless  it  were  one  to 
whistle  gently  and  look  out  into  the  night  as  if 
he  were  alone. 

"No,  seh.  She  doan'  wan'  tuh  see  him  to-night," 
announced  Jim  upon  his  return. 

"That  seems  to  settle  it,  Mr.  Norris,"  said  Jack 
pleasantly. 

"Not  by  a  hell  of  a  sight.  I've  got  something 
to  say  to  her,  and  I'm  going  to  say  it." 

"To-morrow,"  amended  the  officer. 

"I  said  to-night." 

"But  your  say  doesn't  go  here  against  hers.  I 
reckon  you'll  wait." 

"Not  so's  you  could  notice  it."  The  cowpuncher 
took  a  step  forward  toward  the  stairway,  but  Flat-. 
ray  was  there  before  him. 

"Get  out  of  the  way,  you.  I  don't  stand  for  any 
butting-in,"  the  cowboy  blustered. 

"Don't  be  a  goat,  Norris.  She's  tired,  and  she 
says  she  don't  want  to  see  you.  That's  enough, 
ain't  it?" 

Norris  leaped  back  with  an  oath  to  draw  his  gun, 
but  Jack  had  the  quickest  draw  in  Arizona.  The 
puncher  found  himself  looking  into  the  business 
end  of  a  revolver. 

"Better  change  your  mind,  seh,"  suggested  the 
officer  amiably.  "I  take  it  you've  been  drinking 
and  you're  some  excited.  If  you  were  in  condition 
to  saves  the  situation,  you'd  understand  that  the 
young  lady  doesn't  care  to  see  you  now.  Do  you 


158  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

need  a  church  to  fall  on  you  before  you  can  take 
a  hint?" 

"I  reckon  if  you  knew  all  about  her,  you  wouldn't 
be  so  anxious  to  stand  up  for  her,"  Norris  said 
darkly. 

"I  expect  we  cayn't  any  of  us  stand  the  great 
white  light  on  all  our  acts;  but  if  any  one  can,  it's 
that  little  girl  upstairs." 

"What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  she's 
liable  to  go  to  Yuma  if  I  lift  my  hand?" 

"I'd  say  I  was  from  Missouri  and  needed 
showing." 

"Put  up  that  gun,  come  outside  with  me,  and  if 
I  take  a  notion  I'll  show  you  all  right." 

Jack  laughed  as  his  gun  disappeared.  "I'd  be 
willing  to  bet  high  that  there  are  a  good  many  citi 
zens  around  here  haided  straighter  for  Yuma  than 
Miss  Melissy." 

Without  answering,  Norris  led  the  way  out  and 
stopped  only  when  his  arm  rested  on  the  fence  of 
the  corral. 

"Nobody  can  hear  us  now,"  he  said  brusquely, 
and  the  ranger  got  a  whiff  of  his  hot  whisky  breath. 
"You've  put  it  up  to  me  to  make  good.  All  right, 
I'll  do  it.  That  little  girl  in  there,  as  you  call 
her,  is  the  bad  man  who  held  up  the  Fort  Allison 
stage." 

The  officer  laughed  tolerantly  as  he  lit  a 
cigarette. 

"I  hear  you  say  it,  Norris." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  159 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  believe  it  right  away,  but 
it's  a  fact  just  the  same." 

Flatray  climbed  to  the  fence  and  rested  his  feet 
on  a  rail.  "Fire  ahead.  I'm  listenin'." 

"The  first  men  on  the  ground  after  that  hold-up 
were  me  and  Lee.  We  covered  the  situation 
thorough  and  got  hold  of  some  points  right  away." 

"That's  right  funny  too.  When  I  asked  you  if 
you'd  been  down  there  you  both  denied  it,"  com 
mented  the  officer. 

"We  were  protecting  the  girl.  Mind  you,  we 
didn't  know  who  had  done  it  then,  but  we  had  rea 
sons  to  think  the  person  had  just  come  from  this 
ranch." 

"What  reasons?"  briefly  demanded  Flatray. 

"We  don't  need  to  go  into  them.  We  had  them, 
anyhow.  Then  I  lit  on  a  foot-print  right  on  the 
edge  of  the  ditch  that  no  man  ever  made.  We 
didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it,  but  we  wiped  it 
out  and  followed  the  ditch,  one  on  each  side.  We'd 
figured  that  was  the  way  he  had  gone.  You  see, 
though  water  was  running  in  the  ditch  now,  it 
hadn't  been  half  an  hour  before." 

"You  don't  say!" 

"There  wasn't  a  sign  of  anybody  leaving  the 
ditch  till  we  got  to  the  ranch;  then  we  saw  tracks 
going  straight  to  the  house." 

"So  you  got  a  bunch  of  sheep  and  drove  them 
down  there  to  muss  things  up  some." 

Norris  looked  sharply  at  him.     "You  got  there 


160  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

while  we  were  driving  them  back.  Well,  that's 
right.  We  had  to  help  her  out." 

"You're  helping  her  out  now,  ain't  you?"  Jack 
asked  dryly. 

"That's  my  business.  I've  got  my  own  reasons, 
Mr.  Deputy.  All  you  got  to  do  is  arrest  her." 

"Just  as  soon  as  you  give  me  the  evidence,  sen." 

"Haven't  I  given  it  to  you?  She  was  seen  to 
drive  away  from  the  house  in  her  rig.  She  left  foot- 
pfrints  down  there.  She  came  back  up  the  ditch  and 
then  rode  right  up  to  the  head-gates  and  turned  on 
the  water.  Jim  Little  saw  her  cutting  across  coun 
try  from  the  head-gates  hell-to-split." 

"Far  as  I  can  make  out,  all  the  evidence  you've 
given  me  ain't  against  her,  but  against  you.  She 
was  out  drivin'  when  it  happened,  you  say,  and  you 
expect  me  to  arrest  her  for  it.  It  ain't  against  the 
law  to  go  driving,  seh.  And  as  for  that  ditch  fairy 
tale,  on  your  own  say-so  you  wiped  out  all  chance 
to  prove  the  story." 

"Then  you  won't  arrest  her?" 

"If  you'll  furnish  the  evidence,  seh." 

"I  tell  you  we  know  she  did  it.  Her  father 
knows  it." 

"Is  it  worryin'  his  conscience?  Did  he  ask  you 
to  lay  an  information  against  her?"  asked  the  offi 
cer  sarcastically. 

"That  isn't  the  point." 

"You're  right.  Here's  the  point."  Not  by  the 
faintest  motion  of  the  body  had  the  officer's  in- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  161 

dolence  been  lifted,  but  the  quiet  ring  of  his  voice 
showed  it  was  gone.  "You  and  Lee  were  overheard 
planning  that  robbery  the  day  after  you  were  seen 
hanging  around  the  'Monte  Cristo/  You  started 
out  to  hold  up  the  stage.  It  was  held  up.  By  your 
own  story  you  were  the  first  men  on  the  ground 
after  the  robbery.  I  tracked  you  straight  from 
there  here  along  the  ditch.  I  found  a  black  mask 
in  Lee's  coat.  A  dozen  people  saw  you  on  that 
fool  sheep-drive  of  yours.  And  to  sum  up,  I  found 
the  stolen  gold  right  here  where  you  must  have 
hidden  it." 

"You  found  the  gold?     Where ?" 

"That  ain't  the  point  either,  seh.  The  point  is 
that  I've  got  you  where  I  want  you,  Mr.  Norris, 
alias  Mr.  Boone.  You're  wound  up  in  a  net  you 
cayn't  get  away  from.  You're  wanted  back  East, 
and  you're  wanted  here.  I'm  onto  your  little  game, 
sir.  Think  I  don't  know  you've  been  trying  to 
manufacture  evidence  against  me  as  a  rustler? 
Think  I  ain't  wise  to  your  whole  record?  You're 
arrested  for  robbing  the  Fort  Allison  stage." 

Norris,  standing  close  in  front  of  him,  shot  his 
right  hand  out  and  knocked  the  officer  backward 
from  the  fence.  Before  the  latter  could  get  on  his 
feet  again  the  cowpuncher  was  scudding  through 
the  night.  He  reached  his  horse,  flung  himself  on, 
and  galloped  away.  Harmlessly  a  bullet  or  two 
zipped  after  him  as  he  disappeared. 

The  deputy  climbed  over  the   fence  again  and 


162 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

laughed  softly  to  himself.  "You  did  that  right 
well,  Jack.  He'll  always  think  he  did  that  by  his 
lone,  never  will  know  you  was  a  partner  in  that 
escape.  It's  a  fact,  though,  I  could  have  railroaded 
him  through  on  the  evidence,  but  not  without  in 
cluding  the  old  man.  No,  there  wasn't  any  way 
for  it  but  that  grandstand  escape  of  Mr.  Boone's." 
Still  smiling,  he  dusted  himself,  put  up  his  re 
volver,  and  returned  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  TENDERFOOT  MAKES  A  PROPOSITION 

MELISSY  waited  in  dread  expectancy  to  see 
what  would  happen.  Of  quick,  warm 
sympathies,  always  ready  to  bear  with 
courage  her  own  and  others'  burdens,  she  had  none 
of  that  passive  endurance  which  age  and  experience 
bring.  She  was  keyed  to  the  heroism  of  an  occa 
sion,  but  not  yet  to  that  which  life  lays  as  a  daily 
burden  upon  many  without  dramatic  emphasis. 

All  next  day  nothing  took  place.  On  the  suc 
ceeding  one  her  father  returned  with  the  news  that 
the  "Monte  Cristo"  contest  had  been  continued  to 
another  term  of  court.  Otherwise  nothing  unusual 
occurred.  It  was  after  mail  time  that  she  stepped 
to  the  porch  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  and  noticed 
that  the  reward  placard  had  been  taken  down. 

"Who  did  that?"  she  asked  of  Alan  McKinstra, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  steps,  reading  a  newspaper 
and  munching  an  apple. 

"Jack  Flat;  ay  took  it  down.  He  said  the  offer 
of  a  reward  had  been  withdrawn." 

"When  did  he  do  that?" 

"About  an  hour  ago.     Just  before  he  rode  off." 

163. 


164  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Rode  off!     Where  did  he  go?" 

"Heard  him  say  he  was  going  to  Mesa.  He  told 
your  father  that  when  he  settled  the  bill." 

"He's  gone  for  good,  then?" 

"That's  the  way  I  took  it.  Say,  Melissy,  Farnum 
says  Jack  told  him  the  gold  had  been  found  and 
turned  back  to  Morse.  Is  that  right?" 

"How  should  I  know?" 

"Well,  it  looks  blamed  funny  they  could  get  the 
bullion  back  without  getting  the  hold-up." 

"Maybe  they'll  get  him  yet,"  she  consoled  him. 

"I  wish  I  could  get  a  crack  at  him,"  the  boy 
murmured  vengefully. 

"You  had  one  chance  at  him,  didn't  you?" 

"Jose  spoiled  it.  Honest,  I  wasn't  going  to  lie 
'down,  'Lissie." 

Again  the  days  followed  each  other  uneventfully. 
Bellamy  himself  never  came  for  his  mail  now,  but 
sent  one  of  the  boys  from  the  mine  for  it.  Melissy 
wondered  whether  he  despised  her  so  much  he  did 
not  ever  want  to  see  her  again.  Somehow  she  did 
not  like  to  think  this.  Perhaps  it  might  be  delicacy 
on  his  part.  He  was  going  to  drop  the  whole  thing 
magnanimously  and  did  not  want  to  put  upon  her 
the  obligation  of  thanking  him  by  presenting  him 
self  to  her  eyes. 

But  though  he  never  appeared  in  person,  he  had 
never  been  so  much  in  her  mind.  She  could  not  rid 
herself  of  a  growing  sympathy  and  admiration  for 
this  man  who  was  holding  his  own  against  many, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 165 

A  story  which  was  being  whispered  about  reached 
her  ears  and  increased  this.  A  bunch  of  his  sheep 
had  been  found  poisoned  on  their  feeding  ground, 
and  certain  cattle  interests  were  suspected  of  having 
done  the  dastardly  thing. 

When  she  could  stand  the  silence  no  longer  Me- 
lissy  called  up  Jack  Flatray  on  the  telephone  at 
Mesa. 

"You  caught  me  just  in  time.  I'm  leaving  for 
Phoenix  to-night,"  he  told  her.  "What  can  I  do 
for  you,  Miss  Lee?" 

"I  want  to  know  what's  being  done  about  that 
Fort  Allison  stage  hold-up." 

"The  money  has  been  recovered." 

"I  know  that,  but — what  about  the — the  crimi 
nals?" 

"They  made  their  getaway  all  right." 

"Aren't  you  looking  for  them?" 

"No." 

"Did  Mr.  Morse  want  you  to  drop  it?5* 

"Yes.    He  was  very  urgent  about  it." 

"Does  he  know  who  the  criminals  are?" 

"Yes." 

"And  isn't  going  to  prosecute?" 

"So  he  told  me." 

"What  did  Mr.  Morse  say  when  you  made  your 
report?" 

"Said,  Thank  you/  " 

"Oh,  yes,  but — you  know  what  I  mean." 

"Not  being  a  mind-reader " 


166 BRAND    BLOTTERS ^^ 

"About  the  suspect.     Did  he  say  anything?'* 
"Said  he  had  private  reasons  for  not  pushing  the 
case.     I  didn't  ask  him  what  they  were." 

This  was  all  she  could  get  out  of  him.  It  was 
less  than  she  had  hoped.  Still,  it  was  something. 
She  knew  definitely  what  Bellamy  had  done. 
Wherefore  she  sat  down  to  write  him  a  note  of 
thanks.  It  took  her  an  hour  and  eight  sheets  of 
paper  before  she  could  complete  it  to  her  satisfac 
tion.  Even  then  the  result  was  not  what  she  wanted. 
She  wished  she  knew  how  he  felt  about  it,  so  that 
she  could  temper  it  to  the  right  degree  of  warmth 
or  coolness.  Since  she  did  not  know,  she  erred 
on  the  side  of  stiffness  and  made  her  message 
formal. 

"MR.  THOMAS  L.  MORSE, 
"Monte  Cristo  Mine. 
"DEAR  SIR: 

"Father  and  I  feel  that  we  ought  to  thank 
you  for  your  considerate  forbearance  in  a  cer 
tain  matter  you  know  of.  Believe  me,  sir, 
we  are  grateful. 

"Very  respectfully, 

"MELISSY  LEE." 

She  could  not,  however,  keep  herself  from  one 
touch  of  sympathy,  and  as  a  postscript  she  naively 
added : 

"I'm  sorry  about  the  sheep." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 1GT 

Before  mailing  it  she  carried  this  letter  to  her 
father.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  referred  to  the 
other  about  what  each  knew  of  the  affair  of  the 
robbery.  More  than  once  it  had  been  on  the  tip 
of  Champ  Lee's  tongue  to  speak  of  it,  but  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  talk  out  what  he  felt,  and  with 
a  sigh  he  had  given  it  up.  Now  Melissy  came 
straight  to  the  point. 

"I've  been  writing  a  letter  to  Mr.  Morse,  dad, 
thanking  him  for  not  having  me  arrested." 

Lee  shot  at  her  a  glance  of  quick  alarm. 

"Does  he  know  about  it,  honey?" 

"Yes.  Jack  Flatray  found  out  the  whole  thing 
and  told  him.  He  was  very  insistent  on  dropping 
it,  Mr.  Flatray  says." 

"You  say  Jack  found  out  all  about  it,  honey?" 
repeated  Lee  in  surprise. 

He  was  seated  in  a  big  chair  on  the  porch,  and 
she  nestled  on  one  arm  of  it,  rumpled  his  gray  hair 
as  she  had  always  done  since  she  had  been  a  little 
girl,  kissed  him,  and  plunged  into  her  story. 

He  heard  her  to  the  end  without  a  word,  but  she 
noticed  that  he  gripped  the  chair  hard.  When  she 
had  finished  he  swept  her  into  his  arms  and  broke 
down  over  her,  calling  her  the  pet  names  of  her 
childhood. 

"Honey-bird.  .  .  Dad's  little  honey-bird.  .  . 
I'm  that  ashamed  of  myse'f.  JT  was  the  whisky 
did  it,  lambie.  Long  as  I  live  I'll  nevah  touch 
it  again.  I'll  sweah  that  befo'  God.  All  week 


168  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

you  been  packin'  the  troubles  I  heaped  on  you,  pre 
cious,  and  afteh  you-all  saved  me  from  being  a 
criminal.  .  ." 

So  he  went  on,  spending  his  tempestuous  love  in 
endearments  and  caresses,  and  so  together  they 
afterward  talked  it  out  and  agreed  to  send  the  letter 
she  had  written. 

But  Lee  was  not  satisfied  with  her  atonement. 
He  could  not  rest  to  let  it  go  at  that,  without  ex 
pressing  his  own  part  in  it  to  Bellamy.  Next  day 
he  rode  up  to  the  mine,  and  found  its  owner  in 
workman's  slops  just  stepping  from  the  cage.  If 
Bellamy  wrere  surprised  to  see  him,  no  sign  of  i* 
reached  his  face. 

"If  you'll  wait  a  minute  till  I  get  these  things 
off,  I'll  walk  up  to  the  cabin  with  you,  Mr.  Lee," 
he  said. 

"I  reckon  you  got  my  daughter's  letter,"  said 
Lee  abruptly  as  he  strode  up  the  mountainside  with 
his  host. 

"Yes,  I  got  it  an  hour  ago." 

"I  be'n  and  studied  it  out,  Mr.  Morse.  I  couldn't 
let  it  go  at  that,  and  so  I  reckoned  I'd  jog  along 
up  hyer  and  tell  you  the  whole  story." 

"That's  as  you  please,  Mr.  Lee.  I'm  quite  satis 
fied  as  it  is." 

The  rancher  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard. 
"  'Course  I  be'n  holding  a  grudge  at  you  evah  since 
you  took  up  this  hyer  claim.  I  expect  that  rankles 
with  me  most  of  the  time,  and  when  I  take  to 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  169 

drinking  seems  to  me  that  mine  still  belongs  to  me. 
Well,  I  heerd  tell  of  that  shipment  you  was  making, 
and  I  sets  out  to  git  it,  for  it  ce'tainly  did  seem  to 
belong  to  me.  Understand,  I  wasn't  drunk,  but 
had  be'n  settin'  pretty  steady  to  the  bottle  for  sev 
eral  days.  Melissy  finds  it  out,  no  matter  how,  and 
undertakes  to  keep  me  out  of  trouble.  She's  that 
full  of  sand,  she  nevah  once  thought  of  the  danger 
or  the  consequences.  Anyhow,  she  meant  to  git  the 
bullion  back  to  you  afteh  the  thing  had  blown  over." 

"I  haven't  doubted  that  a  moment  since  I  knew 
she  did  it,"  said  Bellamy  quietly. 

"Glad  to  hear  it.  I  be'n  misjudgin'  you,  seh, 
but  you're  a  white  man  afteh  all.  Well,  you  know 
the  rest  of  the  story:  how  she  held  up  the  stage, 
how  Jack  drapped  in  befo'  our  tracks  were  covered, 
how  smart  he  worked  the  whole  thing  out,  and  how 
my  little  gyurl  confessed  to  him  to  save  me." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  that." 

"What  kind  of  a  figure  do  I  make  in  this  ?  First 
off,  I  act  like  a  durn  fool,  and  she  has  to  step  in 
to  save  me.  Then  I  let  her  tote  the  worry  of  it 
around  while  I  ride  off  to  Mesa.  When  Jack  runs 
me  down,  she  takes  the  blame  again.  To  finish 
up  with,  she  writes  you  a  letter  of  thanks,  jes'  as 
if  the  whole  fault  was  hers." 

The  old  soldier  selected  a  smooth  rock  and 
splashed  it  with  tobacco  juice  before  he  continued 
with  rising  indignation  against  himself. 

"I'm  a  fine  father  for  a  gyurl  like  that,  ain't  I? 


170  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Up  to  date  I  always  had  an  idee  I  was  some  sort 
of  a  man,  but  dad  gum  it!  I  cayn't  see  it  hyer. 
To  think  of  me  lettin'  my  little  gyurl  stand  the  con 
sequences  of  my  meanness.  No,  Mr.  Morse,  that's 
one  too  much  for  Champ  Lee.  He's  nevah  going  to 
touch  another  drop  of  whisky  long  as  he  lives." 

"Glad  to  hear  it.  That's  a  square  amend  to  make, 
one  she  will  appreciate." 

"So  I  took  a  pasear  up  hyer  to  explain  this,  and 
to  thank  you  for  yore  kindness.  Fac'  is,  Mn 
Morse,  it  would  have  jest  about  killed  me  if  any 
thing  had  happened  to  my  little  'Lissie.  I  want  to 
say  that  if  you  had  a-be'n  her  brother  you  could  n't 
V  be'n  more  decent." 

"There  was  nothing  else  to  do.  It  happens  that 
I  am  in  her  debt.  She  saved  my  life  once.  Besides, 
I  understood  the  motives  for  her  action  when  she 
broke  the  law,  and  I  honored  them  with  all  my 
heart.  Flatray  felt  just  as  I  did  about  it.  So 
would  any  right-thinking  man." 

"Well,  you  cayn't  keep  me  from  sayin'  again 
that  you  're  a  white  man,  seh,"  the  other  said  with 
a  laugh  behind  which  the  emotion  of  tears  lay 
near. 

"That  offer  of  a  compromise  is  still  open,  Mr. 
Lee." 

The  Southerner  shook  his  grizzled  head.  "No,  I 
reckon  not,  Mr.  Morse.  Understand,  I  got  nothin' 
against  you.  The  feud  is  wiped  out,  and  I'll  make 
you  no  mo'  trouble.  But  it's  yore  mine,  and  I 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  171 

don't  feel  like  taking  charity.  I  got  enough  any 
how." 

"It  wouldn't  be  charity.  I've  always  felt  as  if 
you  had  a  moral  claim  on  an  interest  in  the  'Monte 
Cristo.'  If  you  won't  take  this  yourself,  why  not 
let  me  make  out  the  papers  to  Miss  Lee?  You 
would  feel  then  that  she  was  comfortably  fixed,  no 
matter  what  happened  to  you." 

"Well,  I'll  lay  it  befo'  her.  Anyhow,  we're, 
much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Morse.  I'll  tell  you 
what,  seh,"  he  added  as  an  after-thought.  "You 
come  down  and  talk  it  over  with  'Lissie.  If  you 
can  make  her  see  it  that  way,  good  enough." 

When  Champ  Lee  turned  his  bronco's  head  home' 
ward  he  was  more  at  peace  with  the  world  than  he 
had  been  for  a  long  time.  He  felt  that  he  would 
be  able  to  look  his  little  girl  in  the  face  again.  For 
the  first  time  in  a  week  he  felt  at  one  with  creation. 
He  rode  into  the  ranch  plaza  humming  "Dixie." 

On  the  day  following  that  of  Lee's  call,  the  mine- 
owner  saddled  his  mare  and  took  the  trail  to  the 
half-way  house.  It  was  not  until  after  the  stage 
had  come  and  gone  that  he  found  the  chance  for  a 
word  with  Melissy  alone. 

"Your  father  submitted  my  proposition,  did  he?" 
Bellamy  said  by  way  of  introducing  the  subject. 

"Let's  take  a  walk  on  it  I  haven't  been  out  of 
the  house  to-day,"  she  answered  with  the  boyish 
downrightness  sometimes  uppermost  in  her. 

Calling  Jim,  she  left  him  in  charge  of  the  store, 


172 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

caught  up  a  Mexican  sombrero,  and  led  the  way 
up  the  trail  to  a  grove  of  live-oaks  perched  on  a 
bluff  above.  Below  them  stretched  the  plain,  fold 
on  fold  to  the  blue  horizon  edge.  Close  at  hand 
clumps  of  cactus,  thickets  of  mesquit,  together  with 
the  huddled  adobe  buildings  of  the  ranch,  made  up 
the  details  of  a  scene  possible  only  in  the  sunburnt 
territory.  The  palpitating  heat  quivered  above  the 
hot  brown  sand.  No  life  stirred  in  the  valley  ex-  j 
cept  a  circling  buzzard  high  in  the  sky,  and  the 
tiny  moving  speck  with  its  wake  of  dust  each  knew 
to  be  the  stage  that  had  left  the  station  an  hour 
before. 

Melissy,  unconscious  of  the  charming  picture  she 
made,  stood  upon  a  rock  and  looked  down  on  it  all. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said  at  last  slowly,  "that  most 
people  would  think  this  pretty  desolate.  But  it's 
a  part  of  me.  It's  all  I  know."  She  broke  off  and 
smiled  at  him.  "I  had  a  chance  to  be  civilized. 
Dad  wanted  to  send  me  East  to  school,  but  I 
couldn't  leave  him." 

"Where  were  you  thinking  of  going  ?" 

"To  Denver." 

Her  conception  of  the  East  amused  him.  It 
was  about  as  accurate  as  a  New  Yorker's  of  the 
West. 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't  It  would  have  spoiled  you 
and  sent  you  back  just  like  every  other  young  lady 
the  schools  grind  out." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  173 

She  turned  curiously  toward  him.  "Am  I  not 
like  other  girls?" 

It  was  on  his  tongue  tip  to  tell  her  that  she  was 
gloriously  different  from  most  girls  he  had  known, 
but  discretion  sealed  his  lips.  Instead,  he  told  her 
of  life  in  the  city  and  what  it  means  to  society 
women,  its  emptiness  and  unsatisf action 

His  condemnation  was  not  proof  positive  to  her. 
"I'd  like  to  go  there  for  myself  some  time  and  see. 
And  anyhow  it  must  be  nice  to  have  all  the  money 
you  want  with  which  to  travel,"  she  said. 

This  gave  him  his  opening.  "It  makes  one  in 
dependent.  I  think  that's  the  best  thing  wealth 
can  give — a  sort  of  spaciousness."  He  waited 
perceptibly  before  he  added :  "I  hope  you  have 
decided  to  be  my  partner  in  the  mine." 

"I've  decided  not  to." 

"I'm  sorry.     But  why?" 

"It's  your  mine.     It  isn't  ours." 

"That 's  nonsense.  I  always  in  my  heart,  recog 
nized  a  moral  claim  you  have.  Besides,  the  case 
isn't  finished  yet.  Perhaps  your  father  may  win 
his  contest.  I  'm  all  for  settling  out  of  court." 

"You  know  we  won't  win." 

"I  don't." 

She  gave  him  applause  from  her  dark  eyes. 
"  "That's  very  fair  of  you,  but  Dad  and  I  can't  do  it." 

"Then  you  still  have  a  grudge  at  me,"  he  smiled. 

"Not  the  least  little  bit  of  a  one." 

"I  shan't  take  no  for  an  answer,  then.    I'll  order 


174  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

the  papers  made  out  whether  you  want  me  to  or 
not."  Without  giving  her  a  chance  to  speak,  he 
passed  to  another  topic:  "I've  decided  to  go  out 
of  the  sheep  business." 

"I'm  so  glad!"  she  cried. 

"Those  aren't  my  feelings,"  he  answered  rue 
fully.  "I  hate  to  quit  under  fire." 

"Of  course  you  do,  but  your  friends  will  know 
why  you  do  it." 

"Why  do  I  do  it?" 

"Because  you  know  it's  right.  The  cattlemen 
had  the  range  first.  Their  living  is  tied  up  in  cat 
tle,  and  your  sheep  are  ruining  the  feed  for  them. 
Yesterday  when  I  was  out  riding  I  counted  the 
bones  of  eight  dead  cows." 

He  nodded  gravely.  "Yes,  in  this  country  sheep 
are  death  to  cows.  I  hate  to  be  a  quitter,  but  I 
hate  worse  to  take  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of  a 
dozen  families.  Two  days  ago  I  had  an  offer  for 
my  whole  bunch,  and  to-morrow  I  'm  going  to  take 
the  first  instalment  over  the  pass  and  drive  them 
down  to  the  railroad." 

"But  you'll  have  to  cross  the  dead  line  to  get 
over  the  pass,"  she  said  quickly;  for  all  Cattleland 
knew  that  a  guard  had  been  watching  his  herds  to 
see  they  did  not  cross  the  pass. 

"Yes.  I  'm  going  to  send  Alan  with  a  letter  to 
Farnum.  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any  opposition 
to  my  crossing  it  when  my  object  is  understood," 
he  smiled. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  175 

Melissy  watched  him  ride  away,  strong  and  rug 
ged  and  ungraceful,  from  the  head  to  the  heel  of 
him  a  man.  Life  had  gone  hard  with  him.  She 
wondered  whether  that  were  the  reason  her  heart 
went  out  to  him  so  warmly. 

As  she  moved  about  her  work  that  day  and  the 
next  little  snatches  of  song  broke  from  her,  bub 
bling  forth  like  laughter,  born  of  the  quiet  happiness 
within,  for  which  she  could  give  no  reason. 

After  the  stage  had  gone  she  saddled  her  pony 
and  rode  toward  the  head  of  the  pass.  In  an  hour 
or  two  now  the  sheep  would  be  pouring  across  the 
divide,  and  she  wanted  to  get  a  photograph  of 
them  as  they  emerged  from  the  pass.  She  was  fol 
lowing  an  old  cattle  trail  which  ran  into  the  main 
path  just  this  side  of  the  pass,  and  she  was  close 
to  the  junction  when  the  sound  of  voices  stopped 
her.  Some  instinct  made  her  wait  and  listen. 

The  speakers  were  in  a  dip  of  the  trail  just  ahead 
of  her,  and  the  voice  of  the  first  she  recognized  as 
belonging  to  the  man  Boone.  The  tone  of  it  was 
jubilantly  cruel. 

"No,  sir.  You  don't  move  a  step  of  the  way, 
not  a  step,  Mr.  Alan  McKinstra.  I've  got  him 
right  where  I  want  him,  and  I  don't  care  if  you 
talk  till  the  cows  come  home." 

Alan's  voice  rang  out  indignantly,  "It 's  murder 
then — just  plain,  low-down  murder.  If  you  hold 
me  here  and  let  Morse  fall  into  a  death  trap  with- 


176  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

out  warning  him,  you  're  as  responsible  as  if  you 
shot  him  yourself." 

"All  right.  Suits  me  down  to  the  ground.  We'll 
let  it  go  at  that.  I'm  responsible.  If  you  want 
the  truth  flat  and  plain,  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
that  I  wouldn't  be  satisfied  if  I  wasn't  responsible. 
I'm  evening  up  some  little  things  with  Mr.  Morse 
to-day." 

Melissy  needed  to  hear  no  more  to  understand 
the  situation,  but  if  she  had,  the  next  words  of 
Boone  would  have  cleared  it  up. 

"When  I  met  up  with  you  and  happened  on  the 
news  that  you  was  taking  a  message  to  Farnum, 
and  when  I  got  onto  the  fact  that  Morse,  as  you 
call  him,  was  moving  his  sheep  across  the  dead 
line,  relying  on  you  having  got  his  letter  to  th-e 
cattlemen  to  make  it  safe,  it  seemed  luck  too  good 
to  be  true.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  persuade  you 
to  stay  right  here  with  me,  and  Mr.  Morse  would 
walk  into  the  pass  and  be  wiped  out.  You  get  the 
beauty  of  it,  my  friend,  don't  you?  I'm  respon 
sible,  but  it  will  be  Farnum  and  his  friends  that  will 
bear  the  blame.  There  ain't  but  one  flaw  in  the 
whole  thing:  Morse  will  never  know  that  it's  me 
that  killed  him." 

"You  devil!"  cried  the  boy,  with  impotent  pas 
sion. 

"I've  waited  ten  years  for  this  day,  and  it's  come 
at  last.  Don't  you  think  for  a  moment  I'm  going 
to  weaken.  No,  sir!  You'll  sit  there  with  my 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  177 

gun  poked  in  your  face  just  as  you've  sat  for  six 
hours.  It 's  my  say-so  to-day,  sir,"  Boone  retorted, 
malevolence  riding  triumph  in  his  voice. 

Melissy's  first  impulse  was  to  confront  the  man, 
her  next  to  slip  away  without  being  discovered  and 
then  give  the  alarm. 

"Yes,  sir,"  contined  the  cowpuncher;  "I  scored 
on  Mr.  Morse  two  or  three  nights  ago,  when  I 
played  hell  with  one  of  his  sheep  camps,  and  to 
day  I  finish  up  with  him.  His  sheep  have  been 
watched  for  weeks,  and  at  the  first  move  it's  all  up 
with  him  and  them.  Farnum  's  vaqueros  will  pay 
my  debt  in  full.  Just  as  soon  as  I'm  right  sure 
of  it  I'll  be  jogging  along  to  Dead  Man's  Cache, 
and  you  can  go  order  the  coffin  for  your  boss." 

The  venom  of  the  man  was  something  to  wonder 
at.  It  filled  the  listening  girl  with  sick  apprehen 
sion.  She  had  not  known  that  such  hatred  could 
live  in  the  world. 

Quietly  she  led  her  pony  back,  mounted,  and 
made  a  wide  detour  until  she  struck  the  trail  above. 
Already  she  could  hear  the  distant  bleat  of  sheep 
which  told  her  that  the  herd  was  entering  the  pass. 
Recklessly  she  urged  her  pony  forward,  galloping 
into  the  saddle  between  the  peaks  without  regard  to 
the  roughness  of  the  boulder-strewn  path.  A  voice 
from  above  hailed  her  with  a  startled  shout  as  she 
flew  past.  Again,  a  shot  rang  out,  the  bullet  whis 
tling  close  to  her  ear.  But  nothing  could  stop  her 
till  she  reached  the  man  she  meant  to  save. 


178  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

And  so  it  happened  that  Richard  Bellamy,  walk 
ing  at  the  head  of  his  herd,  saw  a  horse  gallop 
wildly  round  a  bend  almost  into  his  bleating  flock. 
The  rider  dragged  the  bronco  to  a  halt  and  slipped 
to  the  ground.  She  stood  there  ashen-hued,  cling 
ing  to  the  saddle-horn  and  swaying  slightly. 

"I'm  in  time.  .  .  .  Thank  God!  .  .  . 
Thank  God!"  her  parched  lips  murmured. 

"Miss  Lee!     You  here?"  he  cried. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  the  man  and  the  girl, 
while  the  wild  fear  in  her  heart  began  to  still.  The 
dust  of  the  drive  was  thick  on  his  boots,  his  clothes, 
his  face,  but  the  soil  of  travel  could  not  obscure 
the  power  of  his  carriage,  the  strong  lines  of  his 
shoulders,  the  set  of  his  broad,  flat  back,  any  more 
than  it  could  tarnish  her  rarity,  the  sweetness  of 
blood  in  her  that  under  his  gaze  beat  faintly  into 
her  dusky  cheeks.  The  still  force  of  him  somehow 
carried  reassurance  to  her.  Such  virility  of  man 
hood  could  not  be  marked  for  extinction. 

She  panted  out  her  story,  and  his  eyes  never 
eft  her. 

"You  have  risked  your  life  to  save  mine  and 
my  herders,"  he  said  very  quietly. 

"You  must  go  back,"  she  replied  irrelevantly. 

"I  can't.     The  entrance  is  guarded." 

This  startled  her.     "Then— what  shall  we  do?" 

"You  must  ride  forward  at  once.  Tell  the  va- 
queros  that  I  am  moving  my  sheep  only  to  take 
them  to  the  railroad.  Explain  to  them  how  Alan  is 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 179 

detained  with  the  message  I  sent  Farnum.  In  a 
few  minutes  we  shall  follow  with  the  sheep.'' 

"And  if  they  don't  believe  that  you  are  going 
out  of  the  sheep  business — what  then?" 

"I  shall  have  to  take  my  chance  of  that." 

She  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  changed  her  mind, 
nodded,  swung  to  the  saddle,  and  rode  forward. 
After  a  few  minutes  Bellamy  followed  slowly.  He 
was  unarmed,  not  having  doubted  that  his  letter 
to  the  cattleman  would  make  his  journey  safe. 
That  he  should  have  waited  for  an  answer  was  now 
plain,  but  the  contract  called  for  an  immediate  de 
livery  of  the  sheep,  as  he  had  carefully  explained 
in  his  note  to  Farnum. 

Presently  he  heard  again  the  clatter  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  in  the  loose  shale  and  saw  Melissy  returning. 

"Well?"  he  asked  as  she  drew  up. 

"I've  told  them.  I  think  they  believe  me,  but 
I'm  going  through  the  gorge  with  you." 

He  looked  up  quickly  to  protest,  but  did  not. 
He  knew  that  her  thought  was  that  her  presence 
beside  him  would  protect  him  from  attack.  The 
rough  chivalry  of  Arizona  takes  its  hat  off  to  a 
woman,  and  Melissy  Lee  was  a  favorite  of  the 
whole  countryside. 

So  together  they  passed  into  the  gulch,  Bellamy 
walking  by  the  side  of  her  horse.  Neither  of  them 
spoke.  At  their  heels  was  the  soft  rustle  of  many 
thousands  of  padding  feet. 

Once  there  came  to  them  the  sound  of  cheering, 


180 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

and  they  looked  up  to  see  a  group  of  vaqueros  wav 
ing  their  hats  and  shouting  down.  Melissy  shook 
her  handkerchief  and  laughed  happily  at  them.  It 
was  a  day  to  be  remembered  by  these  riders. 

They  emerged  into  a  roll  of  hill-tops  upon  which 
the  setting  sun  had  cast  a  weird  afterglow  of  radi 
ance  in  which  the  whole  world  burned.  The  cactus, 
the  stunted  shrubbery,  the  painted  rocks,  seemed 
all  afire  with  some  magic  light  that  had  touched 
their  commonness  to  a  new  wonder. 

A  sound  came  to  them  from  below.  A  man, 
rifle  in  hand  and  leading  a  horse,  was  stealthily 
crossing  the  trail  to  disappear  among  the  large 
boulders  beyond. 

Melissy  did  not  speak,  scarce  dared  to  draw 
breath,  for  the  man  beneath  them  was  Boone. 
There  was  something  furtive  and  lupine  about  him 
that  suggested  the  wild  beast  stalking  its  kill.  No 
doubt  he  had  become  impatient  to  see  the  end  of 
his  foe  and  had  ridden  forward.  He  had  almost 
crossed  the  path  before  he  looked  up  and  caught 
sight  of  them  standing  together  in  the  fireglow  of 
the  sunset. 

Abruptly  he  came  to  a  standstill. 

"By  God!  you  slipped  through,  did  you?"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice  of  concentrated  bitterness.^ 

Bellamy  did  not  answer,  but  he  separated  himself 
from  the  girl  by  a  step  or  two.  He  knew  quite 
well  what  was  coming,  and  he  looked  down  quietly 
with  steady  eyes  upon  his  foe. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 181 

From  far  below  there  came  the  faint  sound  of  a 
horse  breaking  its  way  through  brush.  Boone 
paused  to  listen,  but  his  eye  never  wandered  from 
the  bareheaded,  motionless  figure  silhouetted  against 
the  skyline  in  the  ruddy  evening  glow.  He  had 
shifted  his  rifle  so  that  it  lay  in  both  hands,  ready 
for  immediate  action. 

Melissy,  horror-stricken,  had  sat  silent,  but  now 
#he  found  her  voice. 

"He  is  unarmed!'*  she  cried  to  the  cowpuncher. 

He  made  no  answer.  Another  sound  in  the 
brush,  close  at  hand,  was  distracting  his  attention, 
though  not  his  gaze. 

Just  as  he  whipped  up  his  rifle  Melissy  sprang 
forward.  She  heard  the  sound  of  the  explosion  fill 
the  draw,  saw  Bellamy  clutch  at  the  air  and  slowly 
sink  to  the  ground.  Before  the  echoes  had  died 
away  she  had  flung  herself  toward  the  inert  body. 

The  outlaw  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  as  if  to 
make  sure  of  his  work,  but  at  the  sound  of  running 
footsteps  he  changed  his  mind,  swung  to  the  saddle 
and  disappeared  among  the  rocks. 

An  instant  later  Bob  Farnum  burst  into  view. 

"What's  up?"  he  demanded. 

Melissy  looked  up.  Her  face  was  perfectly  ashen, 
"Phil  Norris.  .  .  he  shot  Mr.  Morse." 

Farnum  stepped  forward.  "Hurt  badly,  Mr, 
Morse?" 

The  wounded  man  grinned  faintly.  "Scared 
worse,  I  reckon.  He  got  me  in  the  fleshy  part  of 
the  left  arm." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

OLD   ACQUAINTANCES 

\rOU  wanted  to  see  me  ?" 
The  voice  had  the  soft,  slow  intonation 
of  the  South,  and  it  held  some  quality  that 
haunted  the  memory.    Or  so  Melissy  thought  after 
ward,  but  that  may  have  been  because  of  its  owner's 
appeal  to  sympathy. 

"If  you  are  Miss  Yarnell." 

"Feme  Yarnell  is  my  name." 

"Vlr.    Bellamy   asked   me   to  call  on  you.     He 
sent  this  letter  of  introduction." 

&   faint  wave  of  color  beat  into  the  cheek  of  the 
stra  iger.  "You  know  Mr.  Bellamy  then?" 

"  )fes.     He  would  have  been  here  to  meet  you, 
but  he  met  with  an  accident  yesterday." 

"An    accident!"     There    was   a    quick    flash   of 
alarm  in  the  lifted  face. 

"He  told  me  to  tell  you  that  it  was  not  serious. 
He  was  shot  in  the  arm." 

"Shot.     By    whom?"     She    was    ashen   to   the 
lips. 

"By  a  man  called  Duncan  Boone." 

"I  know  him.     He  is  a  dangerous  man." 
182 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  183 

"Yes,"  Melissy  nodded.  "I  don't  think  we  know 
how  very  dangerous  he  is.  We  have  all  been  de 
ceived  in  him  till  recently." 

"Does  he  live  here?" 

"Yes.  The  strange  thing  is  that  he  and  Mr. 
Bellamy  had  never  met  in  this  country  until  a  few 
days  ago.  There  used  to  be  some  kind  of  a  feud 
between  the  families.  But  you  must  know  more 
about  that  than  I  do." 

"Yes.  My  family  is  involved  in  the  feud.  Mr. 
Bellamy  is  a  distant  cousin  of  mine." 

"So  he  told  me." 

"Have  you  known  him  long?" 

Melissy  thought  that  there  was  a  little  more  than 
curiosity  in  the  quick  look  the  young  woman  flung 
at  her. 

"I  met  him  when  he  first  came  here.  He  was 
lost  on  the  desert  and  I  found  him.  After  that 
we  became  very  unfriendly.  He  jumped  a  mining 
claim  belonging  to  my  father.  But  we've  made  it 
up  and  agreed  to  be  friends." 

"He  wrote  about  the  young  lady  who  saved  his 
life." 

Melissy  smiled.  "Did  he  say  that  I  was  a  cattle 
and  a  stage  rustler?" 

"He  said  nothing  that  was  not  good." 

"I  'm  much  obliged  to  him,"  the  Western  girl 
answered  breezily.  "And  now  do  tell  me,  Miss 
Yarnell,  that  you  and  your  people  have  made  up 
your  mind  to  stay  permanently." 


184  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Father  is  still  looking  the  ground  over.  He 
has  almost  decided  to  buy  a  store  here.  Yet  he 
has  been  in  the  town  only  a  day.  So  you  see  he 
must  like  it." 

Outside  the  open  second  story  window  of  the 
hotel  Melissy  heard  a  voice  that  sounded  familiar. 
She  moved  toward  the  window  alcove,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  quick  step  was  heard  in  the  hall.  Some 
one  opened  the  door  of  the  parlor  and  stood  on  the 
threshold.  It  was  the  man  called  Boone. 

Melissy,  from  the  window,  glanced  round.  Her 
first  impulse  was  to  speak;  her  second  to  remain 
silent.  For  the  Arkansan  was  not  looking  at  her. 
His  mocking  ribald  gaze  was  upon  Feme  Yarnell. 

That  young  woman  looked  up  from  the  letter  of 
introduction  she  was  reading  and  a  startled  expres 
sion  swept  into  her  face. 

"Dune  Boone,"  she  cried. 

The  man  doffed  his  hat  with  elaborate  politeness. 
"Right  glad  to  meet  up  with  you  again,  Miss  Feme. 
You  was  in  short  dresses  when  I  saw  you  last 
My,  but  you  've  grown  pretty.  Was  it  because  you 
heard  I  was  in  Arizona  that  you  came  here?" 

She  rose,  rejecting  in  every  line  of  her  erect 
figure  his  impudent  geniality,  his  insolent  pretense 
of  friendliness. 

"My  brother  is  in  the  hotel.  If  he  learns  you 
are  here  there  will  be  trouble." 

A  wicked  malice  lay  in  his  smiling  eyes.  "Trou 
ble  for  him  or  for  me  ?"  he  inquired  silkily. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  185 

His  lash  flicked  her  on  the  raw.  Hal  Yarnell  was 
a  boy  of  nineteen.  This  man  had  a  long  record  as 
a  gunfighter  to  prove  him  a  desperate  man.  More 
over,  he  knew  how  hopelessly  heart  sick  she  was  of 
the  feud  that  for  many  years  had  taken  its  toll  of 
blood. 

"Haven't  you  done  us  enough  harm,  you  and 
yours  ?  Go  away.  Leave  us  alone.  That 's  all 
I  ask  of  you." 

He  came  in  and  closed  the  door.  "But  you  see 
it  ain't  all  I  ask  of  you,  Feme  Yarnell.  I  always 
did  ask  all  I  could  get  of  a  girl  as  pretty  as  you." 

"Will  you  leave  me,  sir?" 

"When  I  'm  through." 

"Now." 

"No,  I  reckon  not,"  he  drawled  between  half 
shuttered  eyes. 

She  moved  toward  the  door,  but  he  was  there 
before  her.  With  a  turn  of  his  wrist  he  had 
locked  it. 

"This  interview  quits  at  my  say-so,  honey. 
Think  after  so  many  years  of  absence-makes-the- 
heart-grow-fonder  you're  going  to  trample  over  me 
like  I  was  a  kid?  Guess  again." 

"Unlock  that  door,"  she  ordered. 

''When  I  get  good  and  ready.  We'll  have  our 
talk  out  first." 

Her  eyes  blazed.  She  was  white  as  paper  though 
she  faced  him  steadily.  But  her  heart  wavered. 
She  dared  not  call  out  for  fear  her  brother  might 


186  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

hear  and  come  to  her  assistance.  This  she  must 
forestall  at  all  costs. 

A  heel  clicked  in  the  alcove.  For  the  first  time 
Norris,  or  Boone  as  the  Southern  girl  had  called 
him,  became  aware  of  a  third  party  in  the  room. 
Melissy  was  leaning  out  of  the  window.  She  called 
down  to  a  man  standing  on  the  street. 

"Jack,  come  up  here  quick.     I  want  you." 

Boone  took  a  step  forward.  "You  here,  'Lissie 
Lee?" 

She  laughed  scornfully.  "Yes,  I  'm  here.  An 
unexpected  pleasure,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Do  you  know  Feme  Yarnell?"  he  asked,  for 
once  taken  aback. 

"It  looks  as  if  I  do." 

His  quick  furtive  eye  fell  upon  an  envelope  on 
the  floor.  He  picked  it  up.  Upon  it  was  written, 
"Miss  Feme  Yarnell,"  and  in  the  corner,  "Intro 
ducing  Miss  Lee." 

A  muscle  twitched  in  his  face.  When  he  looked 
up  there  was  an  expression  of  devilish  malignity 
on  it. 

"Mr.  Bellamy's  handwriting,  looks  like."  He 
turned  to  the  Arizona  girl.  "Then  I  didn't  put  the 
fellow  out  of  business." 

"No,  you  coward." 

The  angry  color  crept  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 
"Better  luck  next  time." 

The  door  knob  rattled.  Someone  outside  was 
trying  to  get  in.  Those  inside  the  room  paid  no 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  187 

obvious  attention  to  him.  The  venomous  face  of 
the  cattle  detective  held  the  women  fascinated. 

"When  Dick  Bellamy  ambushed  Shep  he  made 
a  hell  of  a  bad  play  of  it.  My  old  mammy  used 
to  say  that  the  Boones  were  born  wolves.  I  can 
see  where  she  was  right.  The  man  that  killed  my 
brother  gets  his  one  of  these  days  and  don't  you 
forget  it.  You  just  stick  around.  We're  due  to 
shoot  this  thing  out,  him  and  me,"  the  man  con 
tinued,  his  deep-socketed  eyes  burning  from  the 
grim  handsome  face. 

"Open  the  door,"  ordered  a  voice  from  the  hall, 
shaking  the  knob  violently. 

"You  don't  know  he  killed  your  brother.  Some 
one  else  may  have  done  it.  And  it  may  have  been 
done  in  self  defence,"  the  Arkansas  girl  said  to 
Boone  in  a  voice  so  low  and  reluctant  that  it  ap 
peared  the  words  were  wrung  from  her  by  torture. 

"Think  I  'm  a  buzzard  head  ?  Why  for  did  he 
run  away?  Why  did  he  jump  for  the  sandhills 
soon  as  the  word  came  to  arrest  him?"  He 
snapped  together  his  straight,  thin-lipped  mouth, 
much  as  a  trap  closes  on  its  prey. 

A  heavy  weight  hurtled  against  the  door  and 
shook  it  to  the  hinges.  Melissy  had  been  edging 
to  the  right.  Now  with  a  twist  of  her  lissom  body 
she  had  slipped  past  the  furious  man  and  turned 
the  key. 

Jack  Flatray  came  into  the  room.  His  glancx 
swept  the  young  women  and  fastened  on  the  man 


188 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

In  the  crossed  eyes  of  the  two  was  the  thrust  of 
rapiers,  the  grinding  of  steel  on  steel,  that  deadly 
searching  for  weakness  in  the  other  that  duelists 
employ. 

The  deputy  spoke  in  a  low  soft  drawl.  "Mornin', 
Boone.  Holding  an  executive  session,  are  you?" 

The  lids  of  the  detective  narrowed  to  slits.  From 
the  first  there  had  been  no  pretense  of  friendship 
between  these  two.  There  are  men  who  have  only 
to  look  once  at  each  other  to  know  they  will  be 
foes.  It  had  been  that  way  with  them.  Causes  of 
antagonism  had  arisen  quickly  enough.  Both  domi 
nant  personalities,  they  had  waged  silent  unspoken 
warfare  for  the  leadership  of  the  range.  Later 
over  the  favor  of  Melissy  Lee  this  had  grown  more 
intense,  still  without  having  ever  been  put  into 
words.  Now  they  were  face  to  face,  masks  off. 

"Why  yes,  until  you  butted  in,  Mr.   Sheriff." 

"This  isn't  my  busy  day.  I  thought  I'd  just  drop 
in  to  the  meeting." 

"You've  made  a  mistake.  We're  not  holding 
a  cattle  rustlers'  convention." 

"There  are  so  many  ladies  present  I  can't  hear 
you,  but  maybe  if  you  said  it  outside  I  could,"  the 
deputy  suggested  gently,  a  gleam  of  steely  anger  in 
his  eyes. 

"Say  it  anywhere  to  oblige  a  friend,"  sneered 
Boone. 

From  the  moment  of  meeting  neither  man  had 
lowered  his  gaze  by  the  fraction  of  an  inch.  Red 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  189 

tragedy  was  in  the  air.  Melissy  knew  it.  The  girl 
from  Arkansas  guessed  as  much.  Yet  neither  of 
them  knew  how  to  avert  the  calamity  that  appeared 
impending.  One  factor  alone  saved  the  situation 
for  the  moment.  Flatray  had  not  yet  heard  of  the 
shooting  of  Bellamy.  Had  he  known  he  would 
have  arrested  Boone  on  the  spot  and  the  latter 
would  have  drawn  and  fought  it  out. 

Into  the  room  sauntered  Lee.  "Hello,  'Lissie. 
Been  looking  for  you  an  hour,  honey.  Mornin', 
Norris.  Howdy,  Jack !  Dad  burn  yore  ornery  hide, 
I  ain't  see  you  long  enough  for  a  good  talk  in  a 
coon's  age." 

Melissy  seized  on  her  father  joyfully  as  an  in 
terposition  of  Providence.  "Father,  this  is  Miss 
tYarnell,  the  young  lady  I  told  you  about." 

The  ranchman  buried  her  little  hand  in  his  big 
paw.  "Right  glad  to  meet  up  with  you,  Miss 
kYarnell.  How  do  you  like  Arizona  by  this  time? 
I  reckon  Melissy  has  introduced  you  to  her  friends. 
No?  Make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Flatray. 
Shake  hands  with  Mr.  Norris,  Miss  Yarnell. 
Where  are  you,  Norris?" 

The  owner  of  the  Bar  Double  G  swung  round, 
to  discover  for  the  first  time  that  harmony  was  not 
present.  Boone  stood  back  with  a  sullen  vindic 
tive  expression  on  his  face. 

"Why,  what's  up,  boys?"  the  rancher  asked,  his 
glance  passing  from  one  to  another. 


190  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"You  ain't  in  this,  Lee,"  Boone  informed  him. 
Then,  to  Flatray:  "See  you  later." 

The  deputy  nodded  carelessly.  "Any  time  you 
like." 

The  lank  old  Confederate  took  a  step  forward 
to  call  Boone  back,  but  Melissy  caught  him  by  the 
sleeve. 

"Let  him  go,"  she  whispered  emphatically. 

"I  know  my  boss,"  returned  Lee  with  a  laugh. 

"If  you're  quite  through  with  me,  Miss  Lee,  I  '11 
not  intrude  longer,"  Flatray  said. 

"But  I  'm  not,"  spoke  Melissy  quickly. 

She  did  not  intend  to  let  him  get  away  to  settle 
his  quarrel  with  Boone. 

"I  'm  rather  busy,"  he  suggested. 

"Your  business  will  have  to  wait,"  she  came 
back  decisively. 

Lee  laughed  and  clapped  Jack  on  the  shoulder. 
"Might  as  well  know  your  boss  too,  boy." 

Melissy  flushed  with  a  flash  of  temper.  "I  'm 
nothing  of  the  kind,  dad." 

"Sho !  A  joke's  a  joke,  girl.  That's  twice  hand- 
runnin'  I  get  a  call-down.  You're  mighty  high- 
heeled  to-day,  'pears  like." 

Jack  smiled  grimly.  He  understood  some  things 
that  were  hidden  from  Lee. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CONCERNING    THE    BOONE-BELLAMY-YARNELL    FEUD 

THE  story  that  Ferae  Yarnell  told  them  in 
the  parlor  of  the  hotel  had  its  beginnings 
far  back  in  the  days  before  the  great  war. 
They  had  been  neighbors,  these  three  families,  had 
settled  side  by  side  in  this  new  land  of  Arkansas, 
had  hunted  and  feasted  together  in  amity.  In  an 
hour  had  arisen  the  rift  between  them  that  was  to 
widen  to  a  chasm  into  which  much  blood  had  since 
been  spilt.  It  began  with  a  quarrel  between  hot 
headed  young  men.  Forty  years  later  it  was  still 
running  its  blind  wasteful  course. 

Even  before  the  war  the  Boones  had  begun  to 
go  down  hill  rapidly.  Cad  Boone,  dissipated  and 
unprincipled,  had  found  even  the  lax  discipline  of 
the  Confederate  army  too  rigid  and  had  joined  the 
guerrillas,  that  band  of  hangers-on  which  respected 
neither  flag  and  developed  a  cruelty  that  was  appal 
ling.  Falling  into  the  hands  of  Captain  Ransom 
Yarnell,  he  had  been  tried  by  drumhead  courtmar- 
tial  and  executed  within  twenty  four  hours  of  his 
capture. 

The  boast  of  the  Boones  was  that  they  never 
191 


192  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

forgot  an  injury.  They  might  wait  many  years  for 
the  chance,  but  in  the  end  they  paid  their  debts. 
Twenty  years  after  the  war  Sugden  Boone  shot 
down  Colonel  Yarnell  as  he  was  hitching  his  horse 
in  front  of  the  courthouse  at  Nemo.  Next  Christ 
mas  eve  a  brother  of  the  murdered  man — Captain 
Tom,  as  his  old  troopers  still  called  him — met  old 
Sugden  in  the  postoffice  and  a  revolver  duel  fol 
lowed.  From  it  Captain  Tom  emerged  with  a 
bullet  in  his  arm.  Sugden  was  carried  out  of  the 
store  feet  first  to  a  house  of  mourning. 

The  Boones  took  their  time.  Another  decade 
passed.  Old  Richard  Bellamy,  father  of  the  young1 
man,  was  shot  through  the  uncurtained  window  of 
his  living  rooms  while  reading  the  paper  one  night. 
Though  related  to  the  Yarnells,  he  had  never  taken 
any  part  in  the  feud  beyond  that  of  expressing  his 
opinion  freely.  The  general  opinion  was  that  he 
had  been  killed  by  Dune  Boone,  but  there  was  no 
conclusive  evidence  to  back  it.  Three  weeks  later 
another  one  of  the  same  faction  met  his  fate. 
Captain  Tom  was  ambushed  while  riding  from  his 
plantation  to  town  and  left  dead  on  the  road.  Dune 
Boone  had  been  seen  lurking  near  the  spot,  and 
immediately  after  the  killing  he  was  met  by  two 
hunters  as  he  was  slipping  through  the  underbrush 
for  the  swamps.  There  was  no  direct  evidence 
against  the  young  man,  but  Captain  Tom  had  been 
the  most  popular  man  in  the  county.  Reckless 
though  he  was,  Duncan  Boone  had  been  forced 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  193 

to  leave  the  country  by  the  intensity  of  the  popular 
feeling  against  him. 

Again  the  feud  had  slumbered.  It  was  under 
stood  that  the  Yarnells  and  the  Bellamys  were  ready 
to  drop  it.  Only  one  of  the  opposite  faction  re 
mained  on  the  ground,  a  twin  brother  of  Duncan. 
Shep  Boone  was  a  drunken  ne'er-do-well,  but  since 
he  now  stood  alone  nothing  more  than  empty 
threats 'was  expected  of  him.  He  spent  his  time 
idly  with  a  set  of  gambling  loafers,  but  he  lacked  the 
quality  of  active  malice  so  pronounced  in  Dune. 

A  small  part  of  the  old  plantation,  heavily  mort 
gaged,  still  belonged  to  Shep  and  was  rented  by 
him  to  a  tenant,  Jess  Munro.  He  announced  one 
day  that  he  was  going  to  collect  the  rent  due  him. 
Having  been  drinking  heavily,  he  was  in  an  abusive 
frame  of  mind.  As  it  chanced  he  met  young  HaL 
Yarnell,  just 'going  into  the  office  of  his  kinsman 
Dick  Bellamy,  with  whom  he  was  about  to  arrange 
the  details  of  a  hunting  trip  they  were  starting- 
upon.  Shep  emptied  his  spleen  on  the  boy,  harking 
back  to  the  old  feud  and  threatening  vengeance  at 
their  next  meeting.  The  boy  was  white  with  rage^ 
but  he  shut  his  teeth  and  passed  upstairs  without 
saying  a  word. 

The  body  of  Shep  Boone  was  found  next  day 
by  Munro  among  the  blackberry  bushes  at  the  fence 
corner  of  his  own  place.  No  less  than  four  wit 
nesses  had  seen  young  Yarnell  pass  that  way  with 
a  rifle  in  his  hand  about  the  same  time  that  Shep. 


194 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

was  riding  out  from  town.  They  had  heard  a  shot, 
but  had  thought  little  of  it.  Munro  had  been  hoe 
ing  cotton  in  the  field  and  had  seen  the  lad  as  he 
passed.  Later  he  had  heard  excited  voices,  and 
presently  a  shot.  Other  circumstantial  evidence 
wound  a  net  around  the  boy.  He  was  arrested. 
Before  the  coroner  held  an  inquest  a  new  develop 
ment  startled  the  community.  Dick  Bellamy  fled 
on  a  night  train,  leaving  a  note  to  the  coroner  ex 
onerating  Hal.  In  it  he  practically  admitted  the 
crime,  pleading  self  defence. 

This  was  the  story  that  Feme  Yarnell  told  in 
the  parlor  of  the  Palace  Hotel  to  Jack  Flatray  and 
the  Lees. 

Melissy  spoke  first.  "Did  Mr.  Bellamy  kill  the 
man  to  keep  your  brother  from  being  killed  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  must  have  been  that.  It 's 
all  so  horrible." 

The  deputy's  eyes  gleamed.  "Think  of  it  another 
way,  Miss  Yarnell.  Bellamy  was  up  against  it. 
Your  brother  is  only  a  boy.  He  took  his  place.  A 
friend  couldn't  have  done  more  for  another." 

The  color  beat  into  the  face  of  the  Arkansas  girl 
as  she  looked  at  him.  "No.  He  sacrificed  his 
career  for  him.  He  did  a  thing  he  must  have  hated 
to  do." 

"He's  sure  some  man,"  Flatray  pronounced. 

A  young  man,  slight,  quick  of  step,  and  erect  as 
a  willow  sapling,  walked  into  the  room.  He  looked 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  195 

from  one  to  another  with  clear  level  eyes.  Miss 
Feme  introduced  him  as  her  brother. 

A  thought  crossed  the  mind  of  the  deputy.  Per 
haps  this  boy  had  killed  his  enemy  after  all  and 
Bellamy  had  shouldered  the  blame  for  him.  If  the 
mine  owner  were  in  love  with  Feme  Yarnell  this 
was  a  hypothesis  more  than  possible.  In  either 
case  he  acquitted  the  slayer  of  blame.  In  his  pocket 
was  a  letter  from  the  sheriff  at  Nemo,  Arkansas, 
stating  that  his  county  was  well  rid  of  Shep  Boone 
and  that  the  universal  opinion  was  that  neither 
Bellamy  nor  young  Yarnell  had  been  to  blame  for 
the  outcome  of  the  difficulty.  Unless  there  came 
to  him  an  active  demand  for  the  return  of  Bellamy 
he  intended  to  let  sleeping  dogs  lie. 

No  such  demand  came.  Within  a  month  the 
mystery  was  cleared.  The  renter  Munro  delivered 
himself  to  the  sheriff  at  Nemo,  admitting  that  he 
had  killed  Shep  Boone  in  self  defence.  The  dead 
man  had  been  drinking  and  was  exceedingly  quar 
relsome.  He  had  abused  his  tenant  and  at  last 
drawn  on  him.  Whereupon  Munro  had  shot  him 
down.  At  first  afraid  of  what  might  happen  to 
him,  he  had  stood  aside  and  let  the  blame  be  should 
ered  upon  young  Yarnell.  But  later  his  conscience 
had  forced  him  to  a  confession.  It  is  enough  here 
to  say  that  he  was  later  tried  and  acquitted,  thus 
closing  the  chapter  of  the  wastrel's  tragic  death. 

The  day  after  the  news  of  Munro's  confession 
reached  Arizona  Richard  Bellamy  called  upon  Flat- 


196  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

ray  to  invite  him  to  his  wedding.  As  soon  as  his 
name  was  clear  he  had  asked  Feme  Yarnell  to 
marry  him. 


PART  II 
DEAD  MAN'S  CACHE 


CHAPTER   I 

KIDNAPPED 

AS  a  lake  ripples  beneath  a  summer  breeze,  so 
Mesa  was  stirred  from  its  usual  languor  by 
the  visit  of  Simon  West.  For  the  little 
Arizona  town  was  dreaming  dreams.  Its  imagina 
tion  had  been  aroused;  and  it  saw  itself  no  longer 
a  sleepy  cow  camp  in  the  un  featured  desert,  but  a 
metropolis,  in  touch  with  twentieth-century  life. 

The  great  Simon  West,  pirate  of  finance,  empire 
builder,  molder  of  the  destinies  of  the  mighty 
Southwestern  Pacific  system,  was  to  touch  the  adobe 
village  with  his  transforming  wand  and  make  of 
it  a  hive  of  industry.  Rumors  flew  thick  and  fast. 

Mesa  was  to  be  the  junction  for  the  new  spur 
that  would  run  to  the  big  Lincoln  dam.  The  town 
would  be  a  division  point ;  the  machine  shops  of  the 
system  would  be  located  there.  Its  future,  if  still 
a  trifle  vague,  was  potentially  immense.  Thus,  with 
cheerful  optimism,  did  local  opinion  interpret  the 
visit  of  the  great  man. 

Whatever  Simon  West  may  have  thought  of 
Mesa  and  its  prospects,  he  kept  behind  his  thin, 
close-shut  lips.  He  was  a  dry,  gray  little  man  of 

199 


200  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

.(fifty-five,  with  sharp,  twinkling  eyes  that  saw  every 
thing  and  told  nothing.  Certainly  he  wore  none  of 
.the  visible  signs  of  greatness,  yet  at  his  nod  Wall 
.Street  trembled.  He  had  done  more  to  change  the 
map  of  industrial  America  thark  any  other  man, 
alive  or  dead.  Wherefore,  big  Beauchamp  Lee, 
:mayor  of  Mesa,  and  the  citizens  on  the  reception 
committee  did  their  very  best  to  impress  him  with 
the  future  of  the  country,  as  they  motored  out  to 
the  dam. 

"Most  promising  spot  on  earth.  Beats  Califor 
nia  a  city  block  on  oranges  and  citrons.  Ever  see 
an  Arizona  peach,  Mr.  West?  It  skins  the  world," 
the  big  cattleman  ran  on  easily. 

The  financier's  eye  took  in  the  girl  sitting  beside 
the  chauffeur  in  the  front  seat,  and  he  nodded  assent. 

Melissy  Lee  bloomed.  She  was  vivid  as  a  wild 
poppy  on  the  hillsides  past  which  they  went  flashing. 
But  she  had,  too,  a  daintiness,  a  delicacy  of  color 
ing  and  contour,  that  suggested  the  fruit  named  by 
her  father. 

"You  bet  we  raise  the  best  here,"  that  simple 
gentleman  bragged  patriotically.  "All  we  need  is 
water,  and  the  Lincoln  dam  assures  us  of  plenty. 
Yes,  sir!  It  certainly  promises  to  be  an  Eden." 

West  unlocked  his  lips  long  enough  to  say: 
"Any  country  can  promise.  I'm  looking  for  one 
that  will  perform." 

"You're  seeing  it  right  now,  seh,"  the  mayor  as 
sured  him,  and  launched  into  fluent  statistics. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS SOI 

West  heard,  saw  the  thing  stripped  of  its  enthu 
siasm,  and  made  no  comment  either  for  or  against. 
He  had  plenty  of  imagination,  or  he  could  never 
have  accomplished  the  things  he  had  done.  How 
ever,  before  any  proposition  appealed  to  him  he  had 
to  see  money  in  the  deal.  Whether  he  saw  it  in  this 
particular  instance,  nobody  knew ;  and  only  one  per 
son  had  the  courage  to  ask  him  point-blank  what 
his  intentions  were.  This  was  Melissy. 

Luncheon  was  served  in  the  pleasant  filtered  sun 
light,  almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  dam. 

On  the  way  out  Melissy  had  sat  as  demure  and 
dovelike  as  it  was  possible  for  her  to  be.  But  now 
she  showed  herself  to  be  another  creature. 

Two  or  three  young  men  hovered  about  her ;  not 
able  among  them  was  a  young  fellow  of  not  many 
words,  good-humored,  strong,  with  a  look  of  power 
about  him  which  the  railroad  king  appreciated. 
Jack  Flatray  they  called  him.  He  was  the  newly- 
elected  sheriff  of  the  county. 

The  great  man  watched  the  girl  without  appear 
ing  to  do  so.  He  was  rather  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  the  exotic,  flamelike  beauty  into  which  she  had 
suddenly  sparkled;  but  he  was  inclined  to  attribute 
it  to  the  arrival  of  Flatray. 

Melissy  sat  on  a  flat  rock  beside  WTest,  swinging 
her  foot  occasionally  \vith  the  sheer  active  joy  of 
life,  the  while  she  munched  sandwiches  and  pickles. 
The  young  men  bantered  her  and  each  other,  and 
she  flashed  back  retorts  which  gave  them  alternately 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


deep  delight  at  the  discomfiture  of  some  other.  To 
ward  the  close  of  luncheon,  she  turned  her  tilted 
chin  from  Flatray,  as  punishment  for  some  audacity 
of  his,  and  beamed  upon  the  railroad  magnate. 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  notice  me  at  last,"  he 
said,  with  his  dry  smile. 

"I  was  afraid  of  you,"  she  confided  cheerfully. 

"Am  I  so  awesome?" 

"It's  your  reputation,  you  know.  You're  quite 
a  dragon.  I'm  told  you  gobble  a  new  railroad  every 
morning  for  breakfast." 

"  'Lissie,"  her  father  warned. 

"Let  her  alone,"  the  great  man  laughed.  "Miss 
Lee  is  going  to  give  me  the  privilege  of  hearing  the 
truth  about  myself." 

"But  I'm  asking.  I  don't  know  what  the  truth 
is/'  she  protested. 

"Well,  what  you  think  is  the  truth." 

"It  doesn't  matter  what  we  think  about  you.  The 
important  thing  to  know  is  what  you  think  about 


us." 


"Am  I  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you — with  all 
these  young  men  here?"  he  countered. 

She  was  excited  by  her  own  impudence.  The 
pink  had  spilled  over  her  creamy  cheeks.  She 
flashed  a  look  of  pretended  disdain  at  her  young 
men.  Nevertheless,  she  made  laughing  protest. 

"It's  not  me,  but  Mesa,  that  counts,"  she 
answered  ungrammatically.  "Tell  me  that  you're 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  203 

^^—^— »-.^-»»— i— ^—  * 

going  to  help  us  set  orchards  blossoming  in  these 
deserts,  and  we'll  all  love  you." 

"You  offer  an  inducement,  Miss  Lee.  Come — 
let  us  walk  up  to  the  Point  and  see  this  wonderful 
country  of  yours." 

She  clapped  her  hands.  "Oh,  let's!  I'm  tired 
of  boys,  anyhow.  They  know  nothing  but  non 
sense."  She  made  a  laughing  moue  at  Flatray,  and 
turned  to  join  the  railroad  builder. 

The  young  sheriff  arose  and  trailed  to  his  pony. 
"My  marching  orders,  I  reckon." 

They  walked  up  the  hill  together,  the  great  man 
and  the  untutored  girl.  He  still  carried  himself  with 
the  lightness  of  the  spare,  wiry  man  who  has  never 
felt  his  age.  As  for  her,  she  moved  as  one  on 
springs,  her  slender,  willowy  figure  beautiful  in 
motion. 

"You're  loyal  to  Mesa.  Born  and  brought  up 
there?"  West  asked  Melissy. 

"No.  I  was  brought  up  on  the  Bar  Double  G 
ranch.  Father  sold  it  not  long  since.  We're  in 
terested  in  the  Monte  Cristo  mine,  and  it  has  done 
so  well  that  we  moved  to  town,"  she  explained. 

At  the  first  bend  in  the  mountain  road  Jack  had 
turned  in  his  saddle  to  look  at  her  as  she  climbed 
the  steep.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  up  there  was 
another  curve,  which  swept  the  trail  within  sight 
of  the  summit.  Here  Flatray  pulled  up  and  got 
out  his  field  glasses.  Leisurely  the  man  and  the 
maid  came  into  sight  from  the  timber  on  the  shoul- 


204  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

der  of  the  hill,  and  topped  the  last  ascent.  Jack 
could  discern  Melissy  gesturing  here  and  there  as 
she  explained  the  lay  of  the  land. 

Something  else  caught  and  held  his  glasses.  Four 
riders  had  emerged  from  a  little  gulch  of  dense 
aspens  which  ran  up  the  Point  toward  the  summit. 
One  of  these  had  with  him  a  led  horse. 

"Now,  I  wonder  what  that  means?"  the  sheriff 
mused  aloud. 

He  was  not  left  long  in  doubt.  The  four  men 
rode  swiftly,  straight  toward  the  man  and  the  girl 
above.  One  of  them  swung  from  the  saddle  and 
stepped  forward.  He  spoke  to  West,  who  appeared 
to  make  urgent  protest.  The  dismounted  rider  an 
swered.  Melissy  began  to  run.  Very  faintly  there 
came  to  Flatray  her  startled  cry.  Simultaneously 
he  caught  the  flash  of  the  sun  on  bright  steel.  The 
leader  of  the  four  had  drawn  a  revolver  and  was 
covering  West  with  it.  Instantly  the  girl  stopped 
running.  Plainly  the  life  of  the  railroad  president 
had  been  threatened  unless  she  stopped. 

The  man  behind  the  weapon  swept  a  gesture  in 
the  direction  of  the  led  horse.  Reluctantly  West 
moved  toward  it,  still  protesting.  He  swung  to 
the  saddle,  and  four  of  the  horses  broke  into  a  can 
ter.  Only  the  man  with  the  drawn  revolver  re 
mained  on  the  ground  with  Melissy.  He  scabbarded 
his  gun,  took  a  step  or  two  toward  her,  and  made 
explanations.  The  girl  stamped  her  foot,  and  half 
turned  from  him. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  205 

He  laughed,  stepped  still  closer  to  her,  and  spoke 
again.  Melissy,  with  tilted  chin,  seemed  to  be  un 
aware  that  he  existed.  Another  step  brought  him 
to  her  side.  Once  more  he  spoke.  No  stone  wall 
could  have  given  him  less  recognition.  Then  Jack 
let  out  a  sudden  fierce  imprecation,  and  gave  his 
pony  the  spur.  For  the  man  had  bent  forward 
swiftly,  had  kissed  the  girl  on  the  lips  once — twice 
— three  times,  had  swept  his  hat  off  in  a  low,  mock 
ing  bow,  and  had  flung  himself  on  his  horse,  and 
galloped  off. 

Pebbles  and  shale  went  flying  from  the  horse's 
hoofs  as  the  sheriff  tore  down  the  trail  toward  Me 
lissy.  He  cut  off  at  an  angle  and  dashed  through 
cactus  and  over  rain-washed  gullies  at  breakneck 
speed,  pounding  up  the  stiff  slope  to  the  summit. 
He  dragged  his  pony  to  a  halt,  and  leaped  off  at 
the  same  instant. 

Melissy  came  to  him  with  flashing  eyes.  "Why 
didn't  you  get  here  sooner?"  she  panted,  as  if  she 
had  been  running;  for  the  blind  rage  was  strong 
in  her. 

His  anger  burst  out  to  meet  hers.  "I  wish  I 
had!"  he  cried,  with  a  furious  oath. 

"He  insulted  me.  He  laughed  at  me,  and  taunted^ 
me — and  kissed  me!" 

Jack  nodded.  "I  saw.  If  I  had  only  had  my 
rifle  with  me !  Who  was  he  ?" 

"He  wore  a  mask.  But  I  knew  him.  It  was 
Dune  Boone." 


206 BRAND    BLOTTERS    

"With  the  Roaring  Fork  gang?" 

"I  don't  know.     Is  he  one  of  them?" 

"I've  been  thinking  so  for  years." 

"They  must  have  known  about  our  picnic.  But 
what  do  they  want  with  Mr.  West?" 

"He's  one  of  the  world's  richest  men." 

"But  he  doesn't  carry  his  money  with  him." 

"He  carries  his  life." 

"They  must  mean  to  hold  him  for  a  ransom.  Is 
that  it?" 

"You've  guessed  it.  That's  the  play."  Jack 
considered,  his  eyes  on  the  far-away  hills.  When 
he  spoke  again  it  was  with  sharp  decision.  "Hit 
the  trail  back  to  town  with  your  motor.  Don't  lose 
a  minute  on  the  way.  Send  a  dispatch  to  Bucky 
O'Connor.  You'd  ought  to  get  him  at  Douglas. 
If  not,  some  of  his  rangers  will  know  where  to  reach 
him.  Keep  the  wires  hot  till  you're  in  touch  with: 
him.  Better  sign  my  name.  I've  been  writing  him 
about  this  outfit.  This  job  is  cut  out  for  Bucky, 
and  we've  got  to  get  him  on  it." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"I  can't  do  much — I'm  not  armed.  First  time 
I've  been  caught  that  way  since  I've  been  sheriff. 
Came  out  to-day  for  a  picnic  and  left  my  gun  at 
home.  But  if  they're  the  Roaring  Fork  outfit, 
they'll  pass  through  the  Elkhorn  Canon,  heading 
for  Dead  Man's  Cache.  I'm  going  to  cut  around 
Old  Baldy  and  try  to  beat  them  to  it.  Maybe  I 
can  recognize  some  of  them." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 507 

"But  if  they  see  you?" 

"I  ain't  aiming  to  let  them  see  me." 

"Still,  they  may." 

His  quiet  eyes  met  hers  steadily.  "Yes,  they 
may." 

They  were  friends  again,  though  he  had  never  fully 
forgiven  her  doubt  of  him.  It  might  be  on  the  cards 
that  some  day  she  would  be  more  to  him  than  a 
friend.  Understanding  perfectly  the  danger  of  what 
he  proposed,  she  yet  made  no  protest.  The  man 
who  would  storm  her  heart  must  be  one  who  would 
go  the  limit,  for  her  standards  were  those  of  the 
outdoor  West.  She,  too,  was  "game"  to  the  core; 
and  she  had  never  liked  him  better  than  she  did 
at  this  moment.  A  man  must  be  a  man,  and  take 
his  fighting  chance. 

"All  right,  Jack." 

Not  for  years  before  had  she  called  him  by  his 
first  name.  His  heart  leaped,  but  he  did  not  let 
•even  his  look  tell  what  he  was  feeling. 

"I  reckon  I'll  cut  right  down  from  here,  Melissy. 
Better  not  lose  any  time  getting  to  town.  So-long !" 
And  with  that  he  had  swung  to  the  saddle  and 
swas  off. 

Melissy  ran  swiftly  down  to  the  picnic  party  and 
cried  out  her  news.  It  fell  upon  them  like  a  bolt 
out  of  a  June  sky.  Some  exclaimed  and  wondered 
and  deplored;  but  she  was  proud  to  see  that  her 
father  took  instant  command,  without  an  unneces 
sary  word. 


208  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"They've  caught  us  in  swimming,  boys!  We've 
got  to  burn  the  wind  back  to  town  for  our  guns, 
Dick,  you  ride  around  by  the  Powder  Horn  and 
gather  up  the  boys  on  the  ranch.  Get  Swain  to 
swing  around  to  the  south  and  comb  the  lower 
gulches  of  the  Roaring  Fork.  Tell  him  to  get  in 
touch  with  me  soon  as  he  can.  I'll  come  through 
by  Elkhorn." 

Lee  helped  his  daughter  into  the  machine,  and 
took  his  place  beside  her. 

"Hit  the  high  spots,  Jim.  I've  got  an  engage 
ment  in  the  hills  that  won't  wait,  prior  to  which 
I've  got  to  get  back  to  town  immediate,"  he  told 
the  chauffeur  cheerfully;  for  he  was  beginning  to 
enjoy  himself  as  in  the  old  days,  when  he  had  been 
the  hard-riding  sheriff  of  a  border  county  which 
took  the  premium  for  bad  men. 

The  motor  car  leaped  forward,  fell  into  its  pace, 
and  began  to  hum  its  song  of  the  road  as  it  ate  up 
swiftly  the  miles  that  lay  between  the  dam  and 
Mesa. 


CHAPTER   II 

A  CAPTURE 

FLATRAY  swung  around  Old  Baldy  through 
the  sparse  timber  that  edged  its  roots.  He 
knew  this  country  well;  for  he  had  run 
cattle  here,  and  combed  the  draws  and  ridges  on 
the  annual  spring  and  fall  round-ups. 

There  was  no  trail  to  follow.  Often  the  lay  of 
the  land  forced  him  to  a  detour;  for  it  was  rough 
with  washes,  with  matted  cactus,  and  with  a  thick 
growth  of  netted  mesquite  and  underbrush.  But 
true  as  the  needle  of  a  compass,  he  turned  back 
always  to  the  direction  he  was  following.  He  had 
the  instinct  for  direction,  sharpened  almost  to  in 
fallibility  by  the  experience  his  work  had  given  him. 

So,  hour  after  hour,  he  swung  forward,  pushing 
his  horse  over  the  ground  in  a  sort  of  running  walk, 
common  to  the  plains.  Sunset  found  him  climbing 
from  the  foothills  into  the  mountains  beyond. 
Starlight  came  upon  him  in  a  saddle  between  the 
peaks,  still  plodding  up  by  winding  paths  to  the 
higher  altitudes  that  make  the  ridge  of  the  con 
tinent's  backbone. 

The  moon  was  up  long  before  he  struck  a  gulch 

209 


210  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

spur  that  led  to  Elkhorn  Canon.  Whether  he  would 
be  in  time  or  not — 'assuming  that  he  had  guessed 
aright  as  to  the  destination  of  the  outlaws — he  could 
not  tell.  It  would  be,  at  best,  a  near  thing.  For, 
though  he  had  come  more  directly,  they  had  fol 
lowed  a  trail  which  made  the  going  much  faster. 
Fast  as  the  cow  pony  could  pick  its  way  along  the 
rock-strewn  gulch,  he  descended,  eye  and  ear  alert 
to  detect  the  presence  of  another  human  being  in 
this  waste  of  boulders,  of  moonlit,  flickering  shad 
ows,  of  dark  awesome  peaks. 

His  quick  ear  caught  the  faintest  of  sounds.  He 
slipped  from  the  saddle  and  stole  swiftly  forward 
to  the  point  where  the  gulch  joined  the  main  canon. 
Voices  drifted  to  him — the  sound  of  careless  laugh 
ter,  wafted  by  the  light  night  wind.  He  had  missed 
the  outlaws  by  scarce  a  hundred  yards.  There  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  follow  cautiously.  As  he  was 
turning  to  go  back  for  his  horse  the  moon  emerged 
from  behind  a  cloud  and  flooded  the  canon  with  a 
cold,  silvery  light.  It  showed  Jack  a  man  and  a 
horse  standing  scarce  twenty  yards  from  him.  The 
man  had  his  back  to  him.  He  had  dismounted,  and 
was  tightening  the  cinches  of  his  saddle. 

Flatray  experienced  a  pang  of  disappointment. 
He  was  unarmed.  His  second  thought  sent  him 
flying  noiselessly  back  to  his  horse.  Deftly  he  un 
loosed  the  rope  which  always  hung  coiled  below 
the  saddle  horn.  On  tiptoe  he  ran  back  to  the  gulch 
mouth,  bearing  to  the  right,  so  as  to  come  directly 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  211 

opposite  the  man  he  wanted.  As  he  ran  he  arranged 
the  lariat  to  his  satisfaction,  freeing  the  loop  and 
making  sure  that  the  coil  was  not  bound.  Very 
cautiously  he  crept  forward,  taking  advantage  for 
cover  of  a  boulder  which  rose  from  the  bed  of  the 
gulch. 

The  man  had  finished  tightening  the  girth.  His 
foot  rose  to  the  stirrup.  He  swung  up  from  the 
ground,  and  his  right  leg  swept  across  the  flank  of 
the  pony.  It  did  not  reach  the  stirrup;  for,  even 
as  he  rose,  Jack's  lariat  snaked  forward  and  dropped 
over  his  head  to  his  breast.  It  tightened  sharply 
and  dragged  him  back,  pinioning  his  arms  to  his 
side.  Before  he  could  shake  one  of  them  free  to 
reach  the  revolver  in  his  chaps,  he  was  lying  on  his 
back,  with  Flatray  astride  of  him.  The  cattleman's 
left  hand  closed  tightly  upon  his  windpipe,  while  the 
right  searched  for  and  found  the  weapon  in  the  hol 
ster  of  the  prostrate  man. 

Not  until  the  steel  rim  of  it  pressed  against  the 
teeth  of  the  man  beneath  him  did  Jack's  ringers 
loosen.  "Make  a  sound,  and  you're  a  dead  man." 

The  other  choked  and  gurgled.  He  was  not  yet 
able  to  cry  out,  even  had  he  any  intention  of  so 
doing.  But  defiant  eyes  glared  into  those  of  the 
man  who  had  unhorsed  and  captured  him. 

"Where  are  your  pals  bound  for?"  Flatray  de 
manded. 

He  got  no  answer  in  words,  but  sullen  eyes  flung 
out  an  obstinate  refusal  to  give  away  his  associates. 


gig BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"I  reckon  you're  one  of  the  Roaring  Fork  outfit," 
Jack  suggested. 

"You  know  so  darn  much  I'll  leave  you  to  guess 
the  rest,"  growled  the  prisoner. 

"The  first  thing  I'll  guess  is  that,  if  anything 
happens  to  Simon  West,  you'll  hang  for  it,  my 
friend." 

"You'll  have  to  prove  some  things  first." 

Flatray's  hand  slid  into  the  man's  coat  pocket, 
and  drew  forth  a  piece  of  black  cloth  that  had  been 
used  as  a  mask. 

"Here's  exhibit  A,  to  begin  with." 

The  man  on  the  ground  suddenly  gave  an  upward 
heave,  grasped  at  the  weapon,  and  let  out  a  yell  for 
help  that  echoed  back  from  the  cliff,  while  the  cattle 
man  let  the  butt  of  the  revolver  crash  heavily  down 
upon  his  face.  The  heavy  gun  came  down  three 
times  before  the  struggling  outlaw  would  subside, 
and  then  not  before  blood  streamed  from  ugly  gashes 
into  his  eyes. 

"I've  had  enough,  damn  you!"  the  fellow  mut 
tered  sullenly.  "What  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"You'll  go  along  with  me.  Let  out  another  sound, 
and  I'll  bump  you  off.  Get  a  move  on  you." 

Jack  got  to  his  feet  and  dragged  up  his  prisoner. 
The  man  was  a  heavy-set,  bowlegged  fellow  of  about 
forty,  hard-faced,  and  shifty-eyed — a  frontier  mis 
creant,  unless  every  line  of  the  tough,  leathery  coun 
tenance  told  a  falsehood.  But  he  had  made  his  ex 
periment  and  failed.  He  knew  what  manner  of  man 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


his  captor  was,  and  he  had  no  mind  for  another 
lesson  from  him.  He  slouched  to  his  horse,  under 
propulsion  of  the  revolver,  and  led  the  animal  into 
the  gulch. 

Both  mounted,  Jack  keeping  the  captive  covered 
every  moment  of  the  time;  and  they  began  to  re 
trace  the  way  by  which  the  young  cattleman  had 
just  come. 

After  they  had  ridden  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
Flatray  made  a  readjustment  of  the  rope.  He  let 
the  loop  lie  loosely  about  the  neck  of  the  outlaw, 
the  other  end  01  it  being  tied  to  the  horn  of  his  own 
saddle.  Also,  he  tied  the  hands  of  the  man  in  such 
a  way  that,  though  they  were  free  to  handle  the 
bridle  rein,  he  could  not  raise  them  from  the  saddle 
as  high  as  his  neck. 

"If  you  make  any  sudden  moves,  you'll  be  com 
mitting  suicide.  If  you  yell  out,  it  will  amount  to 
about  the  same  thing.  It's  up  to  you  to  be  good,. 
looks  like." 

The  man  cursed  softly.  He  knew  that  the  least 
attempt  to  escape  or  to  attract  the  attention  of  his 
confederates  would  mean  his  undoing.  Something 
about  this  young  man's  cold  eye  and  iron  jaw  told 
him  that  he  would  not  hesitate  to  shoot,  if  necessary. 

Voices  came  to  them  from  the  canon.  Flatray 
guessed  that  a  reconnoissance  of  the  gulch  would 
be  made,  and  prepared  himself  for  it  by  deflecting 
his  course  from  the  bed  of  the  arroyo  at  a  point 
where  the  walls  fell  back  to  form  a  little  vallev.  A 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


little  grove  of  aspens  covered  densely  the  shoulder 
of  a  hillock  some  fifty  yards  back,  and  here  he  took 
his  stand.  He  dismounted,  and  made  his  prisoner 
do  the  same. 

"Sit  down,"  he  ordered  crisply. 

"What  for?" 

"To  keep  me  from  blowing  the  top  of  your  head 
off,"  answered  Jack  quietly. 

Without  further  discussion,  the  man  sat  down. 
His  captor  stood  behind  him,  one  hand  on  the  shoul 
der  of  his  prisoner,  his  eyes  watching  the  point  of 
the  gulch  at  which  the  enemy  would  appear. 

Two  mounted  men  showed  presently  in  silhouette. 
Almost  opposite  the  grove  they  drew  up. 

"Mighty  queer  what  has  become  of  Hank,"  one 
of  them  said.  "But  I  don't  reckon  there's  any  use 
looking  any  farther.  You  don't  figure  he's  aiming 
to  throw  us  down  —  do  you,  Buck?" 

"Nope.  He'll  stick,  Hank  will.  But  it  sure  looks 
darned  strange.  Here's  him  a-ridin'  along  with  us, 
and  suddenly  he's  missin'.  We  hear  a  yell,  and  go 
back  to  look  for  him.  Nothin'  doin'.  You  don't 
allow  the  devil  could  have  come  for  him  sudden  — 
do  you,  Jeff?" 

It  was  said  with  a  laugh,  defiantly,  but  none  the 
less  Jack  read  uneasiness  in  the  manner  of  the  man. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  both  were  eager  to  turn  back. 
Giant  boulders,  carved  to  grotesque  and  ghostly 
shapes  by  a  million  years'  wind  and  water,  reared 
themselves  aloft  and  threw  shadows  in  the  moon- 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  215 

light.  The  wind,  caught  in  the  gulch,  rose  and  fell 
in  unearthly,  sibilant  sounds.  If  ever  fiends  from 
below  walk  the  earth,  this  time  and  place  was  a 
fitting  one  for  them.  Jack  curved  a  hand  around 
his  mouth,  and  emitted  a  strange,  mournful,  low  cry, 
which  might  have  been  the  scream  of  a  lost  soul. 

Jeff  clutched  at  the  arm  of  his  companion.  "Did 
you  hear  that,  Buck?" 

"What — what  do  you  reckon  it  was,  Jeff?" 

Again  Jack  let  his  cry  curdle  the  night. 

The  outlaws  took  counsel  of  their  terror.  They 
were  hardy,  desperate  men,  afraid  of  nothing  mortal 
under  the  sun.  But  the  dormant  superstition  in  them 
rose  to  their  throats.  Fearfully  they  wheeled  and 
gave  their  horses  the  spur.  Flatray  could  hear  them 
crashing  through  the  brush. 

He  listened  while  the  rapid  hoofbeats  died  away, 
until  even  the  echoes  fell  silent.  "We'll  be  moving," 
he  announced  to  his  prisoner. 

For  a  couple  of  hours  they  followed  substantially 
the  same  way  that  Jack  had  taken,  descending  grad 
ually  toward  the  foothills  and  the  plains.  The  stars 
went  out,  and  the  moon  slid  behind  banked  clouds, 
so  that  the  darkness  grew  with  the  passing  hours. 
At  length  Flatray  had  to  call  a  halt. 

"WV11  camp  here  till  morning,"  he  announced 
when  they  reached  a  grassy  park. 

The  horses  were  hobbled,  and  the  men  sat  down 
opposite  each  other  in  the  darkness.  Presently  the 
prisoner  relaxed  and  fell  asleep.  But  there  was  no 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


sleep  for  his  captor.  The  cattleman  leaned  against 
the  trunk  of  a  cottonwood  and  smoked  his  pipe.  The 
night  grew  chill,  but  he  dared  not  light  a  fire.  At 
last  the  first  streaks  of  gray  dawn  lightened  the  sky. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  shook  his  captive  from 
slumber. 

"Time  to  hit  the  trail." 

The  outlaw  murmured  sleepily,  "How's  that, 
Dune?  Twenty-five  thousand  apiece!" 

"Wake  up  !    We've  got  to  vamose  out  of  here." 

Slowly  the  fellow  shook  the  sleep  from  his  brain. 
He  looked  at  Flatray  sullenly,  without  answering. 
But  he  climbed  into  the  saddle  which  Jack  had 
cinched  for  him.  Dogged  and  wolfish  as  he  was, 
the  man  knew  his  master,  and  was  cowed. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  TABLES  TURNED 

FROM  the  local  eastbound  a  man  swung  to  the 
station  platform  at  Mesa.    He  was  a  dark, 
slim,  little  man,  wiry  and  supple,  with  rest 
less  black  eyes  which  pierced  one  like  bullets. 

The  depot  loungers  made  him  a  focus  of  inquir 
ing  looks.  But,  in  spite  of  his  careless  ease,  a  shrewd 
observer  would  have  read  anxiety  in  his  bearing.  It 
was  as  if  behind  the  veil  of  his  indifference  there 
rested  a  perpetual  vigilance.  The  wariness  of  a 
beast  of  prey  lay  close  to  the  surface. 

"Mornin',  gentlemen,"  he  drawled,  sweeping  the 
group  with  his  eyes. 

"Mornin',"  responded  one  of  the  loafers. 

"I  presume  some  of  you  gentlemen  can  direct  me 
to  the  house  of  Mayor  Lee." 

"The  mayor  ain't  to  home,"  volunteered  a  lank, 
unshaven  native  in  butternut  jeans  and  boots. 

"I  think  it  was  his  house  I  inquired  for,"  sug 
gested  the  stranger. 

"Fust  house  off  the  square  on  the  yon  side  of  the 
postoffice — a  big  two-story  brick,  with  a  gallery  and 
po'ches  all  round  it." 

217 


218 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Having  thanked  his  informant,  the  stranger 
passed  down  the  street.  The  curious  saw  him  pass 
in  at  the  mayor's  gate  and  knock  at  the  door.  It 
opened  presently,  and  disclosed  a  flash  of  white, 
which  they  knew  to  be  the  skirt  of  a  girl. 

"I  reckon  that's  Miss  'Lissie,"  the  others  were  in 
formed  by  the  unshaven  one.  "She's  let  him  in  and 
shet  the  door." 

Inevitably  there  followed  speculation  as  to  who 
the  arrival  might  be.  That  his  coming  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  affair  of  the  West  kidnapping, 
all  were  disposed  to  agree;  but  just  what  it  might 
have  to  do  with  it,  none  of  them  could  do  more 
than  guess.  If  they  could  have  heard  what  passed 
between  Melissy  and  the  stranger,  their  curiosity 
would  have  been  gratified. 

"Good  mornin',  miss.     Is  Mayor  Lee  at  home?" 

"No— he  isn't.  He  hasn't  got  back  yet.  Is  there 
anything  I  can  do  for  you?" 

Two  rows  of  even  white  teeth  flashed  in  a  smile. 
"I  thought  maybe  there  was  something  I  could  do 
for  you.  You  are  Miss  Lee,  I  take  it  ?" 

"Yes.  But  I  don't  quite  understand — unless  you 
have  news." 

"I  have  no  news — yet." 

"You  mean "  Her  eager  glance  swept  over 

him.  The  brown  eyes,  which  had  been  full  of  ques 
tioning,  flashed  to  understanding.  "You  are  not 
Lieutenant  O'Connor?" 

"Am  I  not?"  he  smiled. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  219 

"I  mean — are  you?" 

"At  your  service,  Miss  Lee." 

She  had  heard  for  years  of  this  lieutenant  of 
rangers,  who  was  the  terror  of  all  Arizona  "bad 
men."  Her  father,  Jack  Flatray,  the  range  riders 
'whom  she  knew — game  men  all — hailed  Bucky 
O'Connor  as  a  wonder.  For  coolness  under  fire, 
for  acumen,  for  sheer,  unflawed  nerve,  and  for  his 
skill  in  that  deadly  game  he  played  of  hunting  down 
desperadoes,  they  called  him  chief  ungrudgingly. 
He  was  a  dare-devil,  who  had  taken  his  life  in  his 
hands  a  hundred  times.  Yet  always  he  came  through 
smiling,  and  brought  back  with  him  the  man  he 
went  after.  The  whisper  ran  that  he  bore  a  charmed 
life,  so  many  had  been  his  hairbreadth  escapes. 

"Come  in,"  the  girl  invited.  "Father  said,  if  you 
came,  I  was  to  keep  you  here  until  he  got  back  or 
sent  a  messenger  for  you.  He's  hunting  for  the 
criminals  in  the  Roaring  Fork  country.  Of  course, 
he  didn't  know  when  you  would  get  here.  At  the 
time  he  left  we  hadn't  been  able  to  catch  you  on  the 
wire.  I  signed  Mr.  Flatray's  name  at  his  sugges 
tion,  because  he  was  in  correspondence  with  you 
once  about  the  Roaring  Fork  outlaws.  He  is  out 
in  the  hills,  too.  He  started  half  an  hour  after  the 
kidnappers.  But  he  isn't  armed.  I'm  troubled  about 
him." 

Again  the  young  man's  white-toothed  smile 
flashed.  "You'd  better  be.  Anybody  that  goes 


220  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

hunting  Black  MacQueen  unarmed  ought  to  be  right 
well  insured." 

She  nodded,  a  shadow  in  her  eyes.  "Yes — but 
he  would  go.  He  doesn't  mean  them  to  see  him, 
if  he  can  help  it." 

"Black  sees  a  heap  he  isn't  expected  to  see.  He 
has  got  eyes  all  over  the  hills,  and  they  see  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day." 

"Yes — I  know  he  has  spies  everywhere;  and  he 
has  the  hill  people  terrorized,  they  say.  You  think 
this  is  his  work?" 

"It's  a  big  thing — the  kind  of  job  he  likes  to 
tackle.  Who  else  would  dare  do  such  a  thing?" 

"That's  what  father  thinks.  If  he  had  stolen  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  it  wouldn't  have 
stirred  up  a  bigger  fuss.  Newspaper  men  and  de 
tectives  are  hurrying  here  from  all  directions.  They 
are  sure  to  catch  him." 

"Are  they?" 

She  noticed  a  curious,  derisive  contempt  in  the 
man's  voice,  and  laid  it  to  his  vanity.  "I  don't  mean 
that  they  are.  I  mean  that  you  are  sure  to  get  him," 
she  hastened  to  add.  "Father  thinks  you  are  won 
derful." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  him,"  said  the  man,  with 
almost  a  sneer. 

He  seemed  to  have  so  good  an  opinion  of  him 
self  that  he  was  above  praise  even.  Melissy  was 
coming  to  the  decision  that  she  did  not  like  him — * 


BRAXD    BLOTTERS  221 

which  was  disappointing,  since  she  had  expected  to 
like  him  immensely. 

"I  didn't  look  for  you  till  night.  You  wired  you 
would  be  on  number  seven,"  she  said.  "I  under 
stood  that  was  the  earliest  you  could  get  here." 

His  explanation  of  the  change  was  brief,  and  in 
vited  no  further  discussion.  "I  found  I  could  make 
an  earlier  train." 

"I'm  glad  you  could.  Father  says  it  is  always 
well  to  start  on  the  trail  while  it  is  fresh." 

"Have  you  ever  seen  this  MacQueen,  Miss  Lee?" 
he  asked. 

"Not  unless  he  was  there  when  Mr.  West  was 
kidnapped." 

"Did  you  know  any  of  the  men  ?" 

She  hesitated.  "I  thought  one  was  Duncan 
Boone." 

"What  made  you  think  so?" 

"He  was  the  leader,  I  think,  moved  the  way  he 
does."  Her  anger  flashed  for  an  instant.  "And 
acted  like  him — detestably." 

"Was  he  violent  to  West?    Injure  him?" 

"No — he  didn't  do  him  any  physical  injury  that 
I  saw.  I  wasn't  thinking  about  Mr.  West." 

"Surely  he  didn't  lay  hands  on  you!" 

She  looked  up,  in  time  to  see  the  flicker  of  amuse 
ment  sponged  from  his  face.  It  stirred  vague  anger 
in  her.  "He  was  insolent  and  ungentlemanly." 

"As  how?" 


222 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"It  doesn't  matter  how."  Her  manner  specifically 
declined  to  particularize. 

"Would  you  recognize  him  again  if  you  met 
him?  Describe  him,  if  you  can." 

"Yes.  I  used  to  know  him  well — before  he  be 
came  known  as  an  outlaw."  she  added  after  a  per 
ceptible  hesitation.  "There's  something  ravenous 
about  him."  i 

"You  mean  that  he  is  fierce  and  bloodthirsty?"    « 

"No — I  don't  mean  that;  though,  for  that  mat 
ter,  I  don't  think  he  would  stick  at  anything.  What 
I  mean  is  that  he  is  pantherine  in  his  movemen-ts — • 
more  lithe  and  supple  than  most  men  are." 

"Is  he  a  big  man?" 

"No — medium  size,  and  dark." 

"There  were  four  of  them,  you  say?" 

"Yes.     Jack  saw  them,  too,  but  at  a  distance." 

"He  reached  you  after  they  were  out  of  sight?" 

"They  had  been  gone  about  five  minutes  when  I 
saw  him — five  or  ten.  I  couldn't  be  sure." 

"Boone  offered  no  personal  indignity  to  you  ?" 

"Why  are  you  so  sure?"  she  flashed. 

"The  story  is  that  he  is  quite  the  ladies'  man." 

Melissy  laughed  scornfully. 

At  his  request,  she  went  over  again  the  story  of 
the  abduction,  telling  everything  save  the  matter  of 
the  ravished  kisses.  This  she  kept  to  herself.  She 
did  not  quite  know  why,  except  that  there  was 
something  she  did  not  like  about  this  Bucky  O'Con 
nor.  He  had  a  trick  of  narrowing  his  eyes  and 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


gloating  over  her,  as  a  cat  gloats  over  its  expected 
kill. 

However,  his  confidence  impressed  her.  Cocksure 
he  was,  and  before  long  she  knew  him  boastful  ;  but 
competence  sat  on  him,  none  the  less.  She  thought 
she  could  see  why  he  was  held  to  be  the  most  deadly 
bloodhound  on  a  trail  that  even  Arizona  could  pro 
duce.  That  he  was  fearless  she  did  not  need  to  be 
told,  any  more  than  she  needed  a  certificate  that  on 
occasion  he  could  be  merciless.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  fitted  very  badly  with  the  character  of  the  young 
lieutenant  of  rangers,  as  Jack  Flatray  had  sketched 
it  for  her.  Her  friend's  description  of  his  hero  had 
been  enthusiastic.  She  decided  that  the  young  cat 
tleman  was  a  bad  judge  of  men  —  though,  of  course, 
he  had  never  actually  met  O'Connor. 

"I  reckon  I'll  not  wrait  for  your  father's  report, 
Miss  Lee.  I  work  independent  of  other  men.  That 
is  how  I  get  the  wonderful  results  I  do." 

His  conceit  nettled  her;  also,  it  stung  her  filial 
loyalty.  "My  father  was  the  best  sheriff  this  county 
ever  had,"  she  said  stiffly. 

He  smiled  satirically.  "Still,  I  reckon  I'll  handle 
this  my  own  way  —  unless  your  father's  daughter 
wants  to  go  partners  with  me  in  it." 

She  gave  him  a  look  intended  to  crush  his  im 
pudence.  "No,  thank  you." 

He  ate  a  breakfast  which  she  had  the  cook  pre 
pare  hurriedly  for  him,  and  departed  on  the  horse 
for  which  she  had  telephoned  to  the  nearest  livery 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


stable.  Melissy  was  a  singularly  fearless  girl;  yet 
she  watched  him  go  with  a  decided  relief,  for  which 
she  could  not  account.  He  rode,  she  observed,  like 
a  centaur  —  flat-backed,  firm  in  the  saddle  "nth  the 
easy  negligence  of  a  plainsman.  He  tuiuea  as  he 
started,  and  waved  a  hand  debonairly  at  her. 

"If  I  have  any  luck,  I'll  bring  back  one  of  the 
Roaring  Fork  bunch  with  me  —  a  present  for  a  good 
girl,  Miss  Melissy." 

She  turned  on  her  heel  and  went  inside.  Anger 
pulsed  fiercely  through  her.  He  laughed  at  her, 
made  fun  of  her,  and  yet  called  her  by  her  first 
name.  How  dared  he  treat  her  so!  Worst  of  all, 
she  read  admiration  bold  and  unveiled  in  the  eyes 
that  mocked  her. 

Half  an  hour  later  Flatray,  riding  toward  town 
with  his  prisoner  in  front  of  him,  heard  a  sudden 
sharp  summons  to  throw  up  his  hands.  A  man  had 
risen  from  behind  a  boulder,  and  held  him  covered 
steadily. 

Jack  looked  at  the  fellow  without  complying.  He 
needed  no  second  glance  to  tell  him  that  this  man 
was  not  one  to  be  trifled  with.  "Who  are  you?" 
he  demanded  quietly. 

"Never  mind  who  I  am.     Reach  for  the  sky." 

The  captured  outlaw  had  given  a  little  whoop, 
and  was  now  loosening  the  rope  from  his  neck. 
"You're  the  goods,  Cap!  I  knew  the  boys  would 
pull  it  off  for  me,  but  I  didn't  reckon  on  it  so  durn 
soon." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"Shut  up  !"  ordered  the  man  behind  the  gun,  with 
out  moving  his  eyes  from  Flatray. 

"I'm  a  clam,"  retorted  the  other. 

"I'm  waiting  for  those  hands  to  go  up  ;  but  I'll  not 
wait  long,  seh." 

Jack's  hands  went  up  reluctantly.  "You've  got 
the  call,"  he  admitted. 

They  led  him  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from 
the  trail  and  tied  him  hand  and  foot.  Before  they 
left  him  the  outlaw  whom  he  had  captured  evened 
his  score.  Three  times  he  struck  Flatray  on  the 
head  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  He  was  lying 
on  the  ground  bleeding  and  senseless  when  they 
rode  away  toward  the  hills. 

Jack  came  to  himself  with  a  blinding  headache. 
It  was  some  time  before  he  realized  what  had  hap 
pened.  As  soon  as  he  did  he  set  about  freeing  him 
self.  This  was  a  matter  of  a  few  minutes.  With 
the  handkerchief  that  was  around  his  neck  he  tied 
up  his  wounds.  Fortunately  his  hair  was  very  thick 
and  this  had  saved  him  from  a  fractured  skull. 
Dizzily  he  got  to  his  feet,  found  his  horse,  and 
started  toward  Mesa. 

Not  many  people  were  on  the  streets  when  the 
sheriff  passed  through  the  suburbs  of  the  little 
town,  for  it  was  about  the  breakfast  hour.  One 
stout  old  negro  mammy  stopped  to  stare  in  sur 
prise  at  his  bloody  head. 

"Laws  a  mussy,  Mistah  Flatray,  what  they  done 
be'n  a-doin'  to  you-all?"  she  asked. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


The  sheriff  hardly  saw  her.  He  was  chewing 
the  bitter  cud  of  defeat  and  was  absorbed  in  his 
thoughts.  He  was  still  young  enough  to  have 
counted  on  the  effect  upon  Melissy  of  his  return 
to  town  with  one  of  the  abductors  as  his  prisoner. 

It  happened  that  she  was  on  the  porch  watering 
her  flower  boxes  when  he  passed  the  house. 

"Jack!"  she  cried,  and  on  the  heels  of  her  ex 
clamation  :  "What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Been 
hurt?" 

A  gray  pallor  had  pushed  through  the  tan  of 
her  cheeks.  She  knew  her  heart  was  beating  fast. 

"Bumped  into  a  piece  of  bad  luck,"  he  grinned, 
and  told  her  briefly  what  had  occurred. 

She  took  him  into  the  house  and  washed  his  head 
for  him.  After  she  saw  how  serious  the  cuts  were 
she  insisted  on  sending  for  a  doctor.  When  his 
wounds  were  dressed  she  fed  him  and  made  him 
lie  down  and  sleep  on  her  father's  bed. 

The  sun  was  sliding  down  the  heavens  to  a 
crotch  in  the  hills  before  he  joined  her  again.  She 
was  in  front  of  the  house  clipping  her  roses. 

"Is  the  invalid  better?"  she  asked  him. 

"He's  a  false  alarm.  But  he  did  have  a  mighty 
'thumping  headache  that  has  gone  now." 

"I've  been  wondering  why  you  didn't  meet  Lieu 
tenant  O'Connor.  He  must  have  taken  the  road 
you  came  in  on.M 

The  young  man's  eyes  lit.  "Is  Bucky  here  al 
ready?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 237 

"He  was.  He's  gone.  I  was  greatly  disappointed 
in  him.  He's  not  half  the  man  you  think  he  is." 

"Oh,  but  he  is.     Everybody  says  so." 

"I  never  saw  a  more  conceited  man,  or  a  more 
hateful  one.  There's  something  about  him — oh,  I 
don't  know.  But  he  isn't  good.  I'm  sure  of  that." 

"His  reputation  isn't  of  that  kind.  They  say 
he's  devoted  to  his  wife  and  kids." 

"His  wife  and  children."  Melissy  recalled  the 
smoldering  admiration  in  his  bold  eyes.  She  laughed 
shortly.  "That  finishes  him  with  me.  He's  mar 
ried,  is  he?  Well,  I  know  the  kind  of  husband 
he  is." 

Jack  flashed  a  quick  look  at  her.  He  guessed 
what  she  meant.  But  this  did  not  square  at  all 
with  what  his  friends  had  told  him  of  O'Connor. 

"Did  he  ask  forme?" 

"No.  He  said  he  preferred  to  play  a  lone  hand. 
His  manner  was  unpleasant  all  the  time.  He  knows 
it  all.  I  could  see  that." 

"Anyhow,  he's  a  crackerjack  in  his  line.  Have 
you  heard  from  your  father  since  he  set  out?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  start  to-night  with  a  posse 
for  the  Cache.  If  O'Connor  comes  back,  tell  him 
I'll  follow  the  Roaring  Fork." 

"You'll  not  go  this  time  without  a  gun,  Jack," 
she  said  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile. 

"No.    I  want  to  make  good  this  trip." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"You  did  splendidly  before.  Not  one  man  in 
a  hundred  would  have  done  so  well/' 

"I'm  a  wonder,"  he  admitted  with  a  grin. 

"But  you  will  take  care  of  yourself  —  not  be 
foolish." 

"I  don't  aim  to  take  up  residence  in  Boot  Hill 
cemetery  if  I  can  help  it." 

"Boone  and  his  men  are  dangerous  characters. 
They  are  playing  for  high  stakes.  They  would 
snuff  your  life  out  as  quick  as  they  would  wink. 
Don't  forget  that." 

"You  don't  want  me  to  lie  down  before  Dune 
Boone,  do  you?" 

"No-o.  Only  don't  be  reckless.  I  told  father 
the  same." 

Her  dear  concern  for  him  went  to  Jack's  head, 
but  he  steadied  himself  before  he  answered.  "I've 
got  one  real  good  reason  for  not  being  reckless. 
I'll  tell  you  what  it  is  some  day." 

Her  shy,  alarmed  eyes  fled  his  at  once.  She 
began  an  account  of  how  her  father  had  gathered 
his  posse  and  where  she  thought  he  must  have 
gone. 

After  dinner  Jack  went  downtown.  Melissy  did 
some  household  tasks  and  presently  moved  out  to 
the  cool  porch.  She  was  just  thinking  about  going 
back  in  when  a  barefoot  boy  ran  past  and  whistled. 
From  the  next  house  a  second  youngster  emerged. 

"That  you,  Jimmie?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  239 

"Betcherlife.  Say,  've  you  heard  about  the 
sheriff?" 

"Who?  Jack  Flatray!  Course  I  have.  The 
Roaring  Fork  outfit  ambushed  him,  beat  him  up, 
and  made  him  hit  the  trail  for  town." 

"Aw !  That  ain't  news.  He's  started  back  after 
them  again.  Left  jes'  a  little  while  ago.  I  saw 
him  go — him  'n'  Farnum  'n'  Charley  Hymer  'n' 
Hal  Yarnell  'n'  Mr.  Bellamy." 

"Bet  they  git  'em." 

"Bet  they  don't." 

"Aw,  course  they'll  git  'em,  Tom." 

The  other  youngster  assumed  an  air  of  mystery. 
He  swelled  his  chest  and  strutted  a  step  or  two 
nearer.  Urbane  condescension  oozed  from  him. 

"Say,  Jimmie.     C'n  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"Sure.     Course  I  can." 

"Won't  ever  snitch?" 

"Cross  my  heart." 

"Well,  then— I'm  Black  MacQueen,  the  captain 
of  the  Roaring  Fork  bad  men." 

"You!"  Incredulity  stared  from  Jimmie's  bulg 
ing  eyes. 

"You  betcher.  I'm  him,  here  in  disguise  as  a 
kid." 

The  magnificent  boldness  of  this  claim  stole  Jim 
mie's  breath  for  an  instant.  He  was  two  years 
younger  than  his  friend,  but  he  did  not  quite  know 
whether  to  applaud  or  to  jeer.  Before  he  could 


330 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

make  up  his  mind  a  light  laugh  rippled  to  them 
from  behind  the  vines  on  the  Lee  porch. 

The  disguised  outlaw  and  his  friend  were 
startled.  Both  fled  swiftly,  with  all  the  pretense 
of  desperate  necessity  young  conspirators  love  to 
assume. 

Melissy  went  into  the  house  and  the  laughter 
died  from  her  lips.  She  knew  that  either  her 
father's  posse  or  that  of  Jack  Flatray  would  come 
into  touch  with  the  outlaws  eventually.  When  the 
clash  came  there  would  be  a  desperate  battle.  Men 
•would  be  killed.  She  prayed  it  might  not  be  one 
of  those  for  whom  she  cared  most. 


CHAPTER   IV! 

THE  REAL  BUCKY  AND  THE  FALSE 

NUMBER  SEVEN  was  churning  its  way  fu 
riously  through  brown  Arizona.     The  day 
had    been    hot,    with    a    palpitating    heat 
which  shimmered  over  the  desert  waste.     Defiantly 
the  sun  had  gone  down  beyond  the  horizon,  a  great 
ball  of  fire,  leaving  behind  a  brilliant  splash  of  bold 
colors.     Now  this,  too,  had  disappeared.     Velvet 
night  had  transformed  the  land.     Over  the  distant 
mountains  had  settled  a  smoke-blue  film,  which  left 
them  vague  and  indefinite. 

Only  three  passengers  rode  in  the  Pullman  car. 
One  was  a  commercial  traveler,  busy  making  up  his 
weekly  statement  to  the  firm.  Another  was  a  Bos 
ton  lady,  in  gold-rimmed  glasses  and  a  costume  that 
helped  the  general  effect  of  frigidity.  The  third 
looked  out  of  the  open  window  at  the  distant  hills. 
He  was  a  slender  young  fellow,  tanned  almost  to 
a  coffee  brown,  with  eyes  of  Irish  blue  which  some 
times  bubbled  with  fun  and  sometimes  were  hard 
as  chisel  steel.  Wide-shouldered  and  lean-flanked 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


he  was,  with  well-packed  muscles,  which  rippled  like 
those  of  a  tiger. 

At  Chiquita  the  train  stopped,  but  took  up  again 
almost  instantly  its  chant  of  the  rail.  Meanwhile, 
a  man  had  swung  himself  to  the  platform  of  the 
smoker.  He  passed  through  that  car,  the  two  day 
coaches,  and  on  to  the  sleeper;  his  keen,  restless 
eyes  inspected  every  passenger  in  the  course  of  his 
transit.  Opposite  the  young  man  in  the  Pullman 
he  stopped. 

"May  I  ask  if  you  are  Lieutenant  O'Connor?" 

"My  name,  seh." 

The  young  man  in  the  seat  had  slewed  his  head 
around  sharply,  and  made  answer  with  a  crisp,  busi 
nesslike  directness. 

The  newcomer  smiled.  "I'll  have  to  introduce 
myself,  lieutenant.  My  name  is  Flatray.  I've  come 
to  meet  you." 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Flatray.  I  hope  that 
together  we  can  work  this  thing  out  right.  Mac- 
Queen  has  gathered  a  bunch  that  ought  to  be  cleaned 
out,  and  I  reckon  now's  the  time  to  do  it.  I've  been 
reading  about  him  for  a  year.  I've  got  a  notion 
he's  about  the  ablest  thing  in  bad  men  this  Terri 
tory  has  seen  for  a  good  many  years." 

Flatray  sat  down  on  the  seat  opposite  O'Connor. 
A  smile  flicked  across  his  face,  and  vanished.  "I'm 
of  that  opinion  myself,  lieutenant." 

"Tell  me  all  about  this  affair  of  the  West  kid 
napping,"  the  ranger  suggested. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  233 

The  other  man  told  the  story  while  O'Connor 
listened,  alert  to  catch  every  point  of  the  narrative. 

The  face  of  the  lieutenant  of  rangers  was  a  boy 
ish  one — eager,  genial,  and  frank;  yet,  none  the 
less,  strength  lay  in  the  close-gripped  jaw  and  in 
the  steady,  watchful  eye.  His  lithe,  tense  body  was 
like  a  coiled  spring ;  and  that,  too,  though  he  seemed 
to  be  very  much  at  ease. 

With  every  sentence  that  the  other  spoke,  O'Con 
nor  was  judging  Flatray,  appraising  him  for  a  fine 
specimen  of  a  hard-bitten  breed — a  vigilant  fron 
tiersman,  competent  to  the  finger  tips.  Yet  he  was 
conscious  that,  in  spite  of  the  man's  graceful  ease 
and  friendly  smile,  he  did  not  like  Flatray.  He 
would  not  ask  for  a  better  man  beside  him  in  a 
tight  pinch;  but  he  could  not  deny  that  something 
sinister  which  breathed  from  his  sardonic,  devil- 
may-care  face. 

"So  that's  how  the  land  lies,"  the  sheriff  con 
cluded.  "My  deputies  have  got  the  pass  to  the 
south  blocked;  Lee  is  closing  in  through  Elkhorn; 
and  Fox,  with  a  strong  posse,  is  combing  the  hills 
beyond  Dead  Man's  Cache.  There's  only  one  way 
out  for  him,  and  that  is  over  Powderhorn  Pass. 
Word  has  just  reached  us  that  MacQueen  is  mov 
ing  in  that  direction.  He  is  evidently  figuring  to 
slip  out  over  the  hills  during  the  night.  I've  ar 
ranged  for  us  to  be  met  at  Barker's  Tank  by  a 
couple  of  the  boys,  with  horses.  We'll  drop  off  the 
train  quietly  when  it  slows  up  to  water,  so  that  none 


234  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

of  his  spies  can  get  word  of  our  movements  to  hint 
By  hard  riding  we'd  ought  to  reach  Powderhorn 
in  time  to  head  him  off." 

The  ranger  asked  incisive  questions,  had  the 
topography  of  the  country  explained  to  him  with 
much  detail,  and  decided  at  last  that  Flatray  was 
right.  If  MacQueen  were  trying  to  slip  out,  they 
might  trap  him  at  the  pass ;  if  not,  by  closing  it  they 
would  put  the  cork  in  the  bottle  that  held  him. 

"We'll  try  it,  seh.  Y'u  know  this  country  better 
than  I  do,  and  I'll  give  y'u  a  free  hand.  Unless 
there's  a  slip  up  in  your  calculations,  you'd  ought 
to  be  right." 

"Good  enough,  lieutenant.  I'm  betting  on  those 
plans  myself,"  the  other  answered  promptly,  and 
added,  as  he  looked  out  into  the  night:  "By  that 
notch  in  the  hills,  we'd  ought  to  be  close  to  the  tank 
now.  She's  slowing  up.  I  reckon  we  can  slip  out 
to  the  vestibule,  and  get  off  at  the  far  side  of  the 
track  without  being  noticed  much." 

This  they  found  easy  enough.  Five  minutes  later 
number  seven  was  steaming  away  into  the  distant 
desert.  Flatray  gave  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle;  and 
from  behind  some  sand  dunes  emerged  two  men 
and  four  horses. 

"Anything  new?"  asked  the  sheriff  as  they  came 
nearer. 

"Not  a  thing,  cap,"  answered  one  of  them. 

"Boys,  shake  hands  with  the  famous  Lieutenant 
O'Connor,"  said  Flatray,  with  a  sneer  hid  by  the 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  235 

darkness.  "Lieutenant,  let  me  make  you  acquainted 
with  Jeff  Jackson  and  Buck  Lane." 

"Much  obliged  to  meet  you,"  grinned  Buck  as  he 
shook  hands. 

They  mounted  and  rode  toward  the  notch  in  the 
hills  that  had  been  pointed  out  to  the  ranger.  The 
moon  was  up;  and  a  cold,  silvery  light  flooded  the 
plain.  Seen  in  this  setting,  the  great,  painted  desert 
held  more  of  mystery,  of  beauty,  and  less  of  the 
dead  monotony  that  glared  endlessly  from  arid,  bar 
ren  reaches.  The  sky  of  stars  stretched  infinitely 
far,  and  added  to  the  effect  of  magnitude. 

The  miles  slipped  behind  them  as  they  moved  for 
ward,  hour  after  hour,  their  horses  holding  to  the 
running  walk  that  is  the  peculiar  gait  of  the  cow 
country.  They  rode  in  silence,  with  the  loose  seat 
and  straight  back  of  the  vaquero.  Except  the 
ranger,  all  were  dressed  for  riding — Flatray  in 
corduroys  and  half-knee  laced  boots;  his  men  in 
overalls,  chaps,  flannel  shirts,  and  the  broad- 
brimmed  sombrero  of  the  Southwest.  All  four 
were  young  men;  but  there  was  an  odd  difference 
in  the  expressions  of  their  faces. 

Jackson  and  Lane  had  the  hard-lined  faces,  with 
something  grim  and  stony  in  them,  of  men  who 
ride  far  and  hard  with  their  lives  in  their  hands. 
The  others  were  of  a  higher  type.  Flatray's  dark 
eyes  were  keen,  bold,  and  restless.  One  might  have 
guessed  him  a  man  of  temperament,  capable  of  any 
extremes  of  conduct — often  the  victim  of  his  own 


236  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

ungovernable  whims  and  passions.  Just  as  he 
looked  a  picture  of  all  the  passions  of  youth  run 
to  seed,  so  the  ranger  seemed  to  show  them  in 
flower.  There  was  something  fine  and  strong  and 
gallant  in  his  debonair  manner.  His  warm  smile 
went  out  to  a  world  that  pleased  him  mightily. 

They  rode  steadily,  untired  and  untiring.  The 
'light  of  dawn  began  to  flicker  from  one  notched 
summit  to  another.  Out  of  the  sandy  waste  they 
came  to  a  water  hole,  paused  for  a  drink,  and  passed 
on.  For  the  delay  of  half  an  hour  might  mean  the 
escape  of  their  prey. 

They  came  into  the  country  of  crumbling  mesas 
and  painted  cliffs,  of  hillsides  where  greasewood 
and  giant  cactus  struggled  from  the  parched  earth. 
This  they  traversed  until  they  came  to  plateaus,  ter 
minating  in  foothills,  crevassed  by  gorges  deep  and 
narrow.  The  canons  grew  steeper,  rock  ridges 
more  frequent.  Gradually  the  going  became  more 
difficult. 

Trails  they  seldom  followed.  Washes,  with  sides 
like  walls,  confronted  them.  The  ponies  dropped 
down  and  clambered  up  again  like  mountain  goats. 
Gradually  they  were  ascending  into  the  upper  coun 
try,  which  led  to  the  wild  stretches  where  the  out 
laws  lurked.  In  these  watersheds  were  heavy  pine 
forests,  rising  from  the  gulches  along  the  shoulders 
of  the  peaks. 

A  maze  of  canons,  hopelessly  lost  in  the  hill  tangle 
into  which  they  had  plunged,  led  deviously  to  a 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  237 

twisting  pass,  through  which  they  defiled,  to  drop 
into  a  vista  of  rolling-  waves  of  forest-clad  hills. 
Among  these  wound  countless  hidden  gulches, 
known  only  to  those  who  rode  from  out  them  on 
nefarious  night  errands. 

The  ranger  noted  every  landmark,  and  catalogued 
in  his  mind's  map  every  gorge  and  peak ;  from  what 
he  saw,  he  guessed  much  of  which  he  could  not 
be  sure.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  when  his  suspi 
cions  first  became  aroused.  But  as  they  rode,  with 
out  stopping,  through  what  he  knew  must  be  Pow- 
derhorn  Pass,  as  the  men  about  him  quietly  grouped 
themselves  so  as  to  cut  off  any  escape  he  might 
attempt,  as  they  dropped  farther  and  farther  into 
the  meshes  of  that  forest-crowned  net  which  he 
knew  to  be  the  Roaring  Fork  country,  he  did  not 
need  to  be  told  he  was  in  the  power  of  MacQueen's 
gang. 

Yet  he  gave  no  sign  of  what  he  knew.  As  day 
light  came,  so  that  they  could  see  each  other  dis 
tinctly,  his  face  showed  no  shadow  of  doubt.  It 
was  his  cue  to  be  a  simple  victim  of  credulity,  and 
he  played  it  to  the  finish. 

Without  warning,  through  a  narrow  gulch  which 
might  have  been  sought  in  vain  for  ten  years  by 
a  stranger,  they  passed  into  the  rim  of  a  bowl- 
shaped  valley.  Timber  covered  it  from  edge  to 
edge,  but  over  to  the  left  a  keen  eye  could  see  a 
thinning  of  the  foliage.  Toward  this  they  went, 
following  the  sidehill  and  gradually  dipping  down 


238  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

through  heavy  underbrush.  Before  him  the  officer 
of  rangers  saw  daylight,  and  presently  a  corral,  low 
roofs,  and  grazing  horses. 

"Looks  like  some  one  lives  here/'  he  remarked 
amiably. 

They  were  already  riding  into  the  open.  ID 
front  of  one  of  the  log  cabins  the  man  who  had 
called  himself  Flatray  swung  from  his  saddle. 

"Better  'light,  lieutenant/'  he  suggested  care 
lessly.  "We'll  eat  breakfast  here." 

"Don't  care  if  we  do.  I  could  eat  a  leather  mail 
sack,  I'm  that  hungry,"  the  ranger  answered,  as  he, 
too,  descended. 

His  guide  was  looking  at  him  with  an  expression 
of  open,  malevolent  triumph.  He  could  scarce  keep 
it  back  long  enough  to  get  the  effect  he  wanted. 

"Yes,  we'll  eat  breakfast  here — and  dinner,  and 
supper,  and  breakfast  to-morrow,  and  then  about 
two  more  breakfasts." 

"I  reckon  we'll  be  too  busy  to  sit  around  here/* 
laughed  his  prisoner. 

The  other  ignored  his  comment.  "And  after  that, 
it  ain't  likely  you'll  do  much  more  eating." 

"I  don't  quite  get  the  point  of  that  joke." 

"You'll  get  it  soon  enough!  You'd  savez  it  now, 
if  you  weren't  a  muttonhead.  As  it  is,  I'll  have  to 
explain  it.  Do  you  remember  capturing  Tony 
Chaves  two  years  ago,  lieutenant?" 

The  ranger  nodded,  with  surprise  in  his  round, 
innocent  eyes. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  239 

"What  happened  to  him?"  demanded  the  other. 
A  child  could  have  seen  that  he  was  ridden  by  a 
leering,  savage  triumph. 

"Killed  trying  to  escape  four  days  later." 

"Who  killed  him?" 

"I  did.     It  was  necessary.     I  regretted  it." 

A  sudden  spasm  of  cruelty  swept  over  the  face 
of  the  man  confronting  him.  "Tony  was  my 
partner." 

"Your  partner?" 

"That's  right.  I've  been  wanting  to  say  'How 
d'ye  do?'  ever  since,  Lieutenant  O'Connor.  I'm 
right  glad  to  meet  you. 

"But — I  don't  understand."    He  did,  however. 

"It'll  soak  through,  by  and  by.  Chew  on  this: 
You've  got  just  ninety-six  hours  to  live — exactly 
as  long  as  Tony  lived  after  you  caught  him !  You'll 
be  killed  trying  to  escape.  It  will  be  necessary,  just 
as  you  say  it  was  with  him ;  but  I  reckon  I'll  not  do 
any  regretting  to  speak  of." 

"You  would  murder  me?" 

"Well,  I  ain't  particular  about  the  word  I  use." 
MacQueen  leaned  against  the  side  of  his  horse,  his 
arm  thrown  across  its  neck,  and  laughed  in  slow 
maliciousness.  "Execute  is  the  word  I  use,  though 
— if  you  want  to  know." 

He  had  made  no  motion  toward  his  weapon,  nor 
had  O'Connor ;  but  the  latter  knew  without  looking 
that  he  was  covered  vigilantly  by  both  of  the  other 
men. 


340  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"And  who  are  you?"  the  ranger  asked,  though 
he  was  quite  sure  of  the  answer. 

"Men  call  me  Black  MacQueen,"  drawled  the 
other. 

"MacQueen !    But  you  said " 

"That  I  was  Flatray.    Yep— I  lied." 

O'Connor  appeared  to  grope  with  this  in  amaze 
ment. 

"One  has  to  stretch  the  truth  sometimes  in  my 
profession,"  went  on  the  outlaw  smoothly.  "It  may 
interest  you  to  know  that  yesterday  I  passed  as 
Lieutenant  O'Connor.  When  I  was  O'Connor  I 
arrested  Flatray ;  an'd  now  that  I  am  Flatray  I  have 
arrested  O'Connor,  Turn  about  is  fair  play,  you 
know." 

"Interesting,  if  true,"  O'Connor  retorted  easily. 

"You  can  bank  on  its  truth,  my  friend." 

"And  you're  actually  going  to  kill  me  in  cold 
blood." 

The  black  eyes  narrowed.  "Just  as  I  would  a 
dog,"  said  the  outlaw,  with  savage  emphasis. 

"I  don't  believe  it.     I've  done  you  no  harm." 

MacQueen  glanced  at  him  contemptuously.  The 
famous  Bucky  O'Connor  looked  about  as  competent 
as  a  boy  in  the  pimply  age. 

"I  thought  you  had  better  sense.  Do  you  think 
I  would  have  brought  you  to  Dead  Man's  Cache  if 
I  had  intended  you  to  go  away  alive?  I'm  afraid, 
Lieutenant  Bucky  O'Connor,  that  you're  a  much 
overrated  man.  Your  reputation  sure  would  have 


BRAXD    BLOTTERS 


blown  up,  if  you  had  lived.     You  ought  to  thank 
me  for  preserving  h\" 

"Preserving  it—  how?" 

"By  bumping  you  off  before  jou've  lost  it." 

"Sho!  You  wouldn't  do  that,"  the  ranger  mur 
mured  ineffectively. 

"Well  see.  Jeff,  I  put  him  in  your  charge. 
Search  him,  and  take  him  to  Hftnk's  cabin.  I  hold 
you  responsible  for  him.  Bring  me  any  papers  you 
find  on  him.  When  I  find  time,  IT1  drop  around 
and  see  that  you're  keeping  htm  safe." 

Bucky  was  searched,  and  his  weapons  and  papers 
removed.  After  being  handcuffed,  he  was  chained 
to  a  heavy  staple,  which  had  been  driven  into  one 
of  the  log  walls.  He  was  left  alor^  and  the  door 
was  locked;  but  he  could  hear  Jeff  moving  about 
outside. 

With  the  closing  of  the  door  the  ^acuous  look 
slipped  from  his  face  like  a  mask.  The  loose- 
lipped,  lost-dog  expression  was  gone.  He  looked 
once  more  alert,  competent,  fit  for  the  emergency. 
It  had  been  his  cue  to  let  his  adversary  under 
mate  him.  During  the  long  night  ride  he  had  had 
chances  to  escape,  had  he  desired  to  do  so.  But 
this  had  been  the  last  thing  he  wanted. 

The  outlaws  had  chosen  to  take  him  to  tkf  ir  fast 
ness  in  the  hills.  He  would  back  himself  to  use 
the  knowledge  they  were  thrusting  upon  him,  to 
bring  about  their  undoing.  Only  one  fact>v  uv  the 
case  had  come  upon  him  as  a  surprise.  H^  had  not 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


reckoned  that  they  would  have  a  personal  grudge 
against  him.  And  this  was  a  factor  that  might 
upset  all  his  calculations. 

It  meant  that  he  was  playing  against  time,  witb 
the  chances  of  the  game  all  against  him.  He  had 
forty-eight  hours  in  which  to  escape  —  and  he  was 
handcuffed,  chained,  locked  up,  and  guarded.  Truly, 
the  outlook  was  not  radiant. 


CHAPTER   V 

A    PHOTOGRAPH 

ON  the  third  morning  Beauchamp  Lee  re 
turned  to  Mesa — unshaven,  dusty,  and 
fagged  with  hard  riding.  He  brought 
with  him  a  handbill  which  he  had  picked  up  in  the 
street.  Melissy  hung  over  him  and  ministered  to 
his  needs.  While  he  was  eating  breakfast  he  talked. 

"No  luck  yet,  honey.  He's  hiding  in  some  pocket 
of  the  hills,  I  reckon ;  and  likely  there  he'll  stay  till 
the  hunt  is  past.  They  don't  make  them  any  slicker 
than  Dune,  dad  gum  his  ugly  hide!" 

"What  is  that  paper?"  his  daughter  asked. 

Lee  curbed  a  disposition  toward  bad  language, 
as  he  viewed  it  with  disgust.  "This  here  is  bulletin 
number  one,  girl.  It's  the  cheekiest,  most  impudenl 
thing  I  ever  saw.  MacQueen  serves  notice  to  all 
the  people  of  this  county  to  keep  out  of  this  fight. 
Also,  he  mentions  me  and  Jack  Flatray  by  name — 
warning  us  that,  if  we  sit  in  the  game,  hell  will  be 
popping  for  us." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"Do?  I'll  get  back  to  my  boys  fast  as  horse- 
243 


244  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

*  — — —  .-— — «^.*> 

flesh  will  get  me  there,  once  I've  had  a  talk  with 
that  beef  buyer  from  Kansas  City  I  made  an  ap 
pointment  to  see  before  this  thing  broke  loose.  You 
don't  allow  I'm  going  to  let  any  rustler  dictate  to 
me  what  I'll  do  and  what  I  won't — do  you?" 

"Where  do  you  reckon  he  had  this  printed?"  she 
asked. 

"I  don't  reckon.  I  know.  Late  last  night  a 
masked  man  woke  up  Jim  Snell.  You  know,  he 
sleeps  in  a  room  at  the  back  of  the  printing  office. 
Well,  this  fellow  made  him  dress,  set  up  this  bill, 
and  run  off  five  hundred  copies  while  he  stood  over 
him.  I'll  swan  I  never  heard  of  such  cheek!" 

Melissy  told  what  she  had  to  tell — after  which 
her  father  shaved,  took  a  bath,  and  went  out  to 
meet  the  buyer  from  Kansas  City.  His  business 
kept  him  until  noon.  After  dinner  Melissy's  saddle 
horse  was  brought  around,  and  she  joined  her  father 
to  ride  back  with  him  for  a  few  miles. 

About  three  o'clock  she  kissed  him  good-bye,  and 
turned  homeward.  After  she  had  passed  the  point 
where  the  Silver  Creek  trail  ran  into  the  road  she 
heard  the  sound  of  a  galloping  horse  behind.  A 
rider  was  coming  along  the  trail  toward  town.  He 
gained  on  her  rapidly,  and  presently  a  voice  hailed 
her  gayly : 

"The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to  you,  Miss  'Lissie." 

She  drew  up  to  wait  for  him.  "My  name  is  still 
Miss  Lee,"  she  told  him  mildly,  by  way  of  cor- 
^ection. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  245 

"I'm  glad  it  is,  but  we  can  change  it  in  three 
minutes  at  any  time,  my  dear,"  he  laughed. 

She  had  been  prepared  to  be  more  friendly  to 
ward  him,  but  at  this  she  froze  again. 

"Did  you  leave  Mrs.  O'Connor  and  the  children 
well?"  she  asked  pointedly,  looking  directly  at  him. 

His  smile  vanished,  and  he  stared  at  her  in  a  very 
strange  fashion.  She  had  taken  the  wind  completely 
out  of  his  sails.  It  had  not  occurred  to  him  that 
O'Connor  might  be  a  married  man.  Nor  did  he 
know  but  that  it  might  be  a  trick  to  catch  him.  He 
did  the  only  thing  he  could  do — made  answer  in  an 
ironic  fashion,  which  might  mean  anything  or 
nothing. 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

She  saw  at  once  that  the  topic  did  not  allure  him,, 
and  pushed  home  her  advantage.  "You  must  miss 
Mrs.  O'Connor  when  you  are  away  on  duty." 

"Must  I?" 

"And  the  children,  too.  By  the  way,  what  are 
their  names?" 

"You're  getting  up  a  right  smart  interest  in  my 
family,  all  of  a  sudden,"  he  countered. 

"One  can't  talk  about  the  weather  all  the  time." 

He  boldly  decided  to  slay  the  illusion  of  domes 
ticity.  "If  you  want  to  know,  I  have  neither  wife 
nor  children." 

"But  I've  heard  about  them  all,"  she  retorted. 

"You  have  heard  of  Mrs.  O'Connor,  no  doubt; 


246  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

but  she  happens  to  be  the  wife  of  a  cousin  of  mine." 

The  look  which  she  flashed  at  him  held  more  than 
doubt. 

"You  don't  believe  me?"  he  continued.  "I  give 
you  my  word  that  I'm  not  married." 

They  had  left  the  road,  and  were  following  a 
short  cut  which  wound  down  toward  Tonti,  in  and 
out  among  the  great  boulders.  The  town,  dwarfed 
to  microscopic  size  by  distance,  looked,  in  the  glare 
of  the  sunlight,  as  if  it  were  made  of  white  chalk. 
Along  the  narrow  trail  they  went  singly,  Melissy 
leading  the  way. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  at  the  first  opportunity 
he  forced  his  horse  to  a  level  with  hers. 

"Well — you  heard  what  I  said,"  he  challenged. 

"The  subject  is  of  no  importance  to  me,"  she 
said. 

"It's  important  to  me.  I'm  not  going  to  have 
you  doing  me  an  injustice.  I  tell  you  I'm  not  mar 
ried.  You've  got  to  believe  me." 

Her  mind  was  again  alive  with  suspicions.  Jack 
had  told  her  Bucky  O'Connor  was  married,  and  he 
must  have  known  what  he  was  talking  about. 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  are  married  or  not. 
1  am  of  the  opinion  that  Lieutenant  O'Connor  has 
a  wife  and  three  children.  More  than  once  I  have 
been  told  so,"  she  answered. 

"You  seem  to  know  a  heap  about  the  gentle 
man." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 247 

"I  know  what  I  know." 

"More  than  I  do,  perhaps,"  he  suggested. 

Her  eyes  dilated.  He  could  see  suspicion  take 
hold  of  her. 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered  quietly. 

"Does  that  mean  you  think  I'm  not  Bucky  O'Con 
nor?"  He  had  pushed  his  pony  forward  so  as  to 
cut  off  her  advance,  and  both  had  halted  for  the 
moment. 

She  looked  at  him  with  level,  fearless  eyes.  "I 
don't  know  who  you  are." 

"But  you  think  I'm  not  Lieutenant  O'Connor 
of  the  rangers?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  are  or  not." 

"There  is  nothing  like  making  sure.  Just  look 
over  this  letter,  please." 

She  did  so.  It  was  from  the  governor  of  the 
Territory  to  the  ranger  officer.  While  he  was  very 
complimentary  as  to  past  services,  the  governor 
made  it  plain  that  he  thought  O'Connor  must  at  all 
hazards  succeed  in  securing  the  release  of  Simon 
West.  This  would  be  necessary  for  the  good  name 
of  the  Territory.  Otherwise,  a  widespread  report 
would  go  out  that  Arizona  was  a  lawless  place  in 
which  to  live. 

Melissy  folded  the  letter  and  handed  it  back.  "I 
beg  your  pardon,  Lieutenant  O'Connor.  I  see  that 
I  was  wrong." 

"Forget  it,  my  dear.  We  all  make  mistakes." 
He  had  that  curious  mocking  smile  which  so  often 


248  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

hovered  about  his  lips.  She  felt  as  though  he  were 
deriding  her — as  though  his  words  held  some  hid 
den  irony  which  she  could  not  understand. 

"The  governor  seems  very  anxious  to  have  you 
succeed.  It  will  be  a  black  eye  for  Arizona  if  this 
band  of  outlaws  is  not  apprehended.  You  don't 
think,  do  you,  that  they  will  do  Mr.  West  any 
harm,  if  their  price  is  not  paid  ?  They  would  never 
dare." 

He  took  this  up  almost  as  though  he  resented  it. 
"They  would  dare  anything.  I  reckon  you'll  have 
to  get  up  early  in  the  mornin'  to  find  a  gamer  man 
than  Black  MacQueen." 

"I  wouldn't  call  it  game  to  hurt  an  old  man  whom 
he  has  in  his  power.  But  you  mustn't  let  it  come 
to  that.  You  must  save  him.  Are  you  making 
any  progress?  Have  you  run  down  any  of  the 
band  ?  And  while  I  think  of  it — have  you  seen  to 
day's  paper ?" 

"No— why?" 

"The  biggest  story  on  the  front  page  is  about 
the  West  case.  It  seems  that  this  MacQueen  wired 
to  Chicago  to  Mr.  Lucas,  president  of  one  of  the 
lines  on  the  Southwestern  system,  that  they  would 
release  Mr.  West  for  three  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  in  gold.  He  told  him  a  letter  had  been  mailed 
to  the  agent  at  Mesa,  telling  under  just  what  con 
ditions  the  money  was  to  be  turned  over;  and  he 
ended  with  a  threat  that,  if  steps  were  taken  to  cap 
ture  the  gang,  or  if  the  money  were  not  handed 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  249 

over  at  the  specified  time,  Mr.  West  would  disap 
pear  forever." 

"Did  the  paper  say  whether  the  money  would  be 
turned  over?" 

"It  said  that  Mr.  Lucas  was  going  to  get  into 
touch  with  the  outlaws  at  once,  to  effect  the  release 
of  his  chief." 

A  gleam  of  triumph  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  the 
man.  "That's  sure  the  best  way." 

"It  won't  help  your  reputation,  will  it?"  she 
asked.  "Won't  people  say  that  you  failed  on  this 
case?" 

He  laughed  softly,  as  if  at  some  hidden  source 
of  mirth.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  did  say  that 
Bucky  O'Connor  hadn't  made  good  this  time. 
They'll  figure  he  tried  to  ride  herd  on  a  job  too  big 
for  him." 

Her  surprised  eye  brooded  over  this,  too.  Here 
he  was  defending  the  outlaw  chief,  and  rejoicing  at 
his  own  downfall.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to 
the  contradictions  in  this  man.  She  was  to  run 
across  another  tangled  thread  of  the  puzzle  a  few 
minutes  later. 

She  had  dismounted  to  let  him  tighten  the  saddle 
cinch.  Owing  to  the  heat,  he  had  been  carrying1 
his  coat  in  front  of  him.  He  tossed  it  on  a  boulder 
by  the  side  of  the  trail,  in  such  a  way  that  the  inside 
pocket  hung  down.  From  it  slid  some  papers  and 
a  photograph.  Melissy  looked  down  at  the  picture, 
then  instantly  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  For  it  was 


250 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

a  photograph  of  a  very  charming  woman  and  three 
children,  and  across  the  bottom  of  it  was  written 
a  line. 

"To  Bucky,  from  his  loving  wife  and  children." 

The  girl  handed  it  to  the  man  without  a  word, 
and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"Bowled  out,  by  ginger!"  he  said,  with  a  light 
laugh. 

But  as  she  continued  to  look  at  him — a  man  of 
promise,  who  had  plainly  traveled  far  on  the  road 
to  ruin — the  conviction  grew  on  her  that  the  sweet- 
faced  woman  in  the  photograph  was  no  loving  wife 
of  his.  He  was  a  man  who  might  easily  take  a 
woman's  fancy,  but  not  one  to  hold  her  love  for 
years  through  the  stress  of  life.  Moreover,  Bucky 
O'Connor  held  the  respect  of  all  men.  She  had 
heard  him  spoken  of,  and  always  with  a  meed  of 
affection  that  is  given  to  few  men.  Whoever  this 
graceless  scamp  was,  he  was  not  the  lieutenant  of 
rangers. 

The  words  slipped  out  before  she  could  stop  them : 
"You're  not  Lieutenant  O'Connor  at  all." 

"Playing  on  that  string  again,  are  you?"  he 
jeered. 

"I'm  sure  of  it  this  time." 

"Since  you  know  who  I'm  not,  perhaps  you  can 
tell  me,  too,  who  I  am." 

In  that  instant  before  she  spoke,  while  her  steady 
eyes  rested  on  him,  she  put  together  many  things 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  251 

which  had  puzzled  her.  All  of  them  pointed  to  one 
conclusion.  Even  now  her  courage  did  not  fail 
her.  She  put  it  into  words  quietly : 

"You  are  that  villain  Black  MacOueen." 

He  stared  at  her  in  surprise.  "By  God,  girl — 
you're  right.  I'm  MacQueen,  though  I  don't  know 
how  you  guessed  it." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  kept  from  guessing  it  so 
long.  I  can  see  it,  now,  as  plain  as  day,  in  all  that 
you  have  done." 

After  that  they  measured  strength  silently  with 
their  eyes.  If  the  situation  had  clarified  itself,  with 
the  added  knowledge  of  the  girl  had  come  new 
problems.  Let  her  return  to  Mesa,  and  he  could 
no  longer  pose  as  O'Connor;  and  it  was  just  the 
audacity  of  this  double  play  that  delighted  him. 
He  was  the  most  reckless  man  on  earth;  he  loved 
to  take  chances.  He  wanted  to  fool  the  officers  to 
his  heart's  content,  and  then  jeer  at  them  after 
ward.  Hitherto  everything  had  come  his  way. 

But  if  this  girl  should  go  home,  he  could  not 
show  his  face  at  Mesa;  and  the  spice  of  the  thing 
would  be  gone.  He  was  greatly  taken  with  her 
beauty,  her  daring,  and  the  charm  of  high  spirits 
which  radiated  from  her.  Again  and  again  he  had 
found  himself  drawn  back  to  her.  He  was  not  in 
love  with  her  in  any  legitimate  sense;  but  he  knew 
now  that,  if  he  could  see  her  no  more,  life  would 
be  a  savorless  thing,  at  least  until  his  fancy  had 
spent  itself.  Moreover,  her  presence  at  Dead  Man's 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


Cache  would  be  a  safeguard.  With  her  in  his 
power,  Lee  and  Flatray,  the  most  persistent  of  his 
hunters,  would  not  dare  to  move  against  the  out 
laws. 

Inclination  and  interest  worked  together.  He 
decided  to  take  her  back  with  him  to  the  country 
of  hidden  pockets  and  gulches.  There,  in  time,  he 
would  win  her  love — so  his  vanity  insisted.  After 
that  they  would  slip  away  from  the  scene  of  his 
crimes,  and  go  back  to  the  world  from  which  he 
had  years  since  vanished. 

The  dream  grew  on  him.  It  got  hold  of  his 
imagination.  For  a  moment  he  saw  himself  as  the 
man  he  had  been  meant  for — the  man  he  might 
have  been,  if  he  had  been  able  to  subdue  his  evil 
nature.  He  saw  himself  respected,  a  power  in  the 
community,  going  down  to  a  serene  old  age,  with 
this  woman  and  their  children  by  his  sid&  Then 
he  laughed  derisively,  and  brushed  aside  the  vision. 

"Why  didn't  the  real  Lieutenant  O'Connor  ar 
rive  to  expose  you?"  she  asked. 

"The  real  Bucky  is  handcuffed  and  guarded  at 
Dead  Man's  Cache.  I  don't  think  he's  enjoying 
himself  to-day." 

"You're  getting  quite  a  collection  of  prisoners. 
You'll  be  starting  a  penitentiary  on  your  own  ac 
count  soon/'  she  told  him  sharply. 

"That's  right.  And  I'm  taking  another  one  back 
with  me  to-night." 

"Who  is  he?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 253 

"It's  a  lady  this  time — Miss  Melissy  Lee." 

His  words  shook  her.  An  icy  hand  seemed  to 
clamp  upon  her  heart.  The  blood  ebbed  even  from 
her  lips,  but  her  brave  eyes  never  faltered  from 
his. 

"So  you  war  on  women,  too !" 

He  gave  her  his  most  ironic  bow.  "I  don't  war 
on  you,  my  dear.  You  shall  have  half  of  my  king 
dom,  if  you  ask  it — and  all  my  heart." 

"I  can't  use  either,"  she  told  him  quietly.  "But 
I'm  only  a  girl.  If  you  have  a  spark  of  manliness 
in  you,  surely  you  won't  take  me  a  prisoner  among 
those  wild,  bad  men  of  yours." 

"Those  wild,  bad  men  of  mine  are  lambs  when 
I  give  the  word.  They  wouldn't  lift  a  hand  against 
you.  And  there  is  a  woman  there — the  mother  of 
one  of  my  boys,  who  was  shot.  We'll  have  you 
chaperoned  for  fair." 

"And  if  I  say  I  won't  go?" 

"You'll  go  if  I  strap  you  to  your  saddle." 

It  was  characteristic  of  Melissy  that  she  made  no 
further  resistance.  The  sudden,  wolfish  gleam  in 
his  eyes  had  told  her  that  he  meant  what  he  said. 
It  was  like  her,  too,  that  she  made  no  outcry ;  that 
>  she  did  not  shed  tears  or  plead  with  him.  A  gallant 
spirit  inhabited  that  slim,  girlish  body;  and  she 
yielded  to  the  inevitable  with  quiet  dignity.  This 
surprised  him  greatly,  and  stung  his  reluctant  ad 
miration.  At  the  same  time,  it  set  her  apart  from 
him  and  hedged  her  with  spiritual  barriers.  Her 


254  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

body  might  ride  with  him  into  captivity;  she  was 
still  captain  of  her  soul. 

"You're  a  game  one/'  he  told  her,  as  he  helped 
her  to  the  saddle. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  looked  straightforward 
between  her  horse's  ears,  without  seeing  him,  wait 
ing  for  him  to  give  the  word  to  start. 


CHAPTER   VI 

IN  DEAD  MAN'S  CACHB 

NOT  since  the  start  of  their  journey  had 
Melissy  broken  silence,  save  to  answer,  in 
f*vr  words  as  possible,  the  questions 
put  to  her  by  tne  outlaw.  Yet  her  silence  had  not 
been  sullenness.  It  had  been  the  barrier  which  she 
had  set  up  between  them — one  which  he  could  not 
break  down  short  of  actual  roughness. 

Of  this  she  could  not  accuse  him.  Indeed,  he 
had  been  thoughtful  of  her  comfort.  At  sunset  they 
had  stopped  by  a  spring,  and  he  had  shared  with 
her  such  food  as  he  had.  Moreover,  he  had  in 
sisted  that  she  should  rest  for  a  while  before  they 
took  up  the  last  stretch  of  the  way. 

It  was  midnight  now,  and  they  had  been  travel 
ing  for  many  hours  over  rough  mountain  trails. 
There  was  more  strength  than  one  would  look  for 
in  so  slender  a  figure,  yet  Melissy  was  drooping 
with  fatigue. 

"It's  not  far  now.  We'll  be  there  in  a  few  min 
utes,"  MacQueen  promised  her. 

They  were  ascending  a  narrow  trail  which  ran 
255 


256  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

along  the  sidehill  through  the  timber.  Presently 
they  topped  the  summit,  and  the  ground  fell  away 
from  their  feet  to  a  bowl-shaped  valley,  over  which 
the  silvery  moonshine  played  so  that  the  basin 
seemed  to  swim  in  a  magic  sea  of  light. 

"Welcome  to  the  Cache,"  he  said  to  her. 

She  was  surprised  out  of  her  silence.  "Dead 
Man's  Cache?" 

"It  has  been  called  that." 

"Why?" 

She  knew,  but  she  wanted  to  see  if  he  would 
tell  a  story  which  showed  so  plainly  his  own  ruth- 
lessness. 

He  hesitated,  but  only  for  a  moment 

"There  was  a  man  named  Havens.  He  had  a 
reputation  as  a  bad  man,  and  I  reckon  he  deserved 
it — if  brand  blotting,  mail  rustling,  and  shooting 
citizens  are  the  credentials  to  win  that  title.  Hard 
pressed  on  account  of  some  deviltry,  he  drifted  into 
this  country,  and  was  made  welcome  by  those  living 
here.  The  best  we  had  was  his.  He  was  fed,  out 
fitted,  and  kept  safe  from  the  law  that  was  looking 
for  him. 

"You  would  figure  he  was  under  big  obligations 
to  the  men  that  did  this  for  him — wouldn't  you? 
But  he  was  born  skunk.  When  his  chance  came  he 
offered  to  betray  these  men  to  the  law,  in  exchange 
for  a  pardon  for  his  own  sneaking  hide.  The  let 
ter  was  found,  and  it  was  proved  he  wrote  it.  What 
ought  those  men  to  have  done  to  him,  Miss  'Lissie  ?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  25T 

"I  don't  know."     She  shuddered. 

"There's  got  to  be  law,  even  in  a  place  like  this. 
We  make  our  own  laws,  and  the  men  that  stay  here 
have  got  to  abide  by  them.  Our  law  said  this  man 
must  die.  He  died." 

She  did  not  ask  him  how.  The  story  went  that 
the  outlaws  whom  the  wretched  man  had  tried  to 
sell  let  him  escape  on  purpose — that,  just  as  he 
thought  he  was  free  of  them,  their  mocking  laughter 
came  to  him  from  the  rocks  all  around  He  was 
completely  surrounded.  They  had  merely  let  him 
run  into  a  trap.  He  escaped  again,  wandered  with 
out  food  for  days,  and  again  discovered  that  they 
had  been  watching  him  all  the  time.  Turn  which 
ever  way  he  would,  their  rifles  warned  him  back. 
He  stumbled  on,  growing  weaker  and  weaker.  The)? 
would  neither  capture  him  nor  let  him  go. 

For  nearly  a  wreek  the  cruel  game  went  on.  Fre 
quently  he  heard  their  voices  in  the  hills  about  him.. 
Sometimes  he  would  call  out  to  them  pitifully  to  put 
him  out  of  his  misery.  Only  their  horrible  laughter 
answered.  When  he  had  reached  the  limit  of  en 
durance  he  lay  down  and  died. 

And  die  man  who  had  engineered  that  heartless* 
revenge  was  riding  beside  her.  He  had  been  ready 
to  tell  her  the  whole  story,  if  she  had  asked  for  it, 
and  equally  ready  to  justify  it.  Nothing  could  have 
shown  her  more  plainly  the  character  of  the  villain 
into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen. 

They  descended  into  the  valley,  winding  in  and 


258 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

out  until  they  came  suddenly  upon  ranch  houses 
and  a  corral  in  a  cleared  space. 

A  man  came  out  of  the  shadows  into  the  moon 
light  to  meet  them.  Instantly  Melissy  recognized 
his  walk.  It  was  Boone. 

"Oh,  it's  you,"  MacQueen  said  coldly.  "Any  of 
the  rest  of  the  boys  up  ?" 

"No." 

Not  a  dozen  words  had  passed  between  them,  but 
the  girl  sensed  hostility.  She  was  not  surprised. 
Dune  Boone  was  not  the  man  to  take  second  place 
in  any  company  of  riff-raff,  nor  was  MacQueen 
one  likely  to  yield  the  supremacy  he  had  fought  to 
gain. 

The  latter  swung  from  the  saddle  and  lifted  Me 
lissy  from  hers.  As  her  feet  struck  the  ground 
her  face  for  the  first  time  came  full  into  the  moon 
light. 

Boone  stifled  a  startled  oath. 

"Melissy  Lee!"  Like  a  swiftly  reined  horse  he 
swung  around  upon  his  chief.  "What  devil's  work 
is  this?" 

"My  business,  Dune!"  the  other  retorted  in  suav%i 
insult. 

"By  God,  no!  I  make  it  mine.  This  young- 
lady's  a  friend  of  mine — or  used  to  be.  Sabe?" 

"I  scibe  you'd  better  not  try  to  sit  in  at  this  game, 
my  friend." 

Boone  swung  abruptly  upon  Melissy.  "How 
come  you  here,  girl?  Tell  me!" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  259 

And  in  three  sentences  she  explained. 

"What's  your  play  ?  Why  for  did  you  bring  her?" 
the  Arkansan  demanded  of  MacQueen. 

The  latter  stood  balanced  on  his  heels  with  his 
feet  wide  apart.  There  was  a  scornful  grin  on  his 
face,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  warily  on  the  other 
man. 

"What  was  I  to  do  with  her,  Mr.  Buttinski?  She 
found  out  who  I  was.  Could  I  send  her  home? 
If  I  did  how  was  I  to  fix  it  so  I  could  go  to  Mesa 
when  it's  necessary  till  we  get  this  ransom  business 
arranged  ?" 

"All  right.  But  you  understand  she's  a  friend 
of  mine.  I'll  not  have  her  hurt." 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil!  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of 
hurting  young  ladies." 

MacQueen  swung  on  his  heel  insolently  and 
knocked  on  the  door  of  a  cabin  near. 

"Don't  forget  that  I'm  here  when  you  need  me," 
Boone  told  Melissy  in  a  low  voice. 

"I'll  not  forget,"  the  girl  made  answer  in  a 
murmur. 

The  wrinkled  face  of  a  Mexican  woman  appeared 
presently  at  a  window.  MacQueen  jabbered  a  sen 
tence  or  two  in  her  language.  She  looked  at  Melissy 
and  answered. 

The  girl  had  not  lived  in  Southern  Arizona  for 
twenty  years  without  having  a  working  knowledge 
of  Spanish.  Wherefore,  she  knew  that  her  captor 
had  ordered  his  own  room  prepared  for  her. 


260  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

While  they  waited  for  this  to  be  made  ready  Mac- 
Queen  hummed  a  snatch  of  a  popular  song.  It 
happened  to  be  a  love  ditty.  Boone  ground  his 
teeth  and  glared  at  him,  which  appeared  to  amuse 
the  other  ruffian  immensely. 

"Don't  stay  up  on  our  account,"  MacQueen  sug 
gested  presently  with  a  malicious  laugh.  "We're 
not  needing  a  chaperone  any  to  speak  of." 

The  Mexican  woman  announced  that  the  bedroom 
was  ready  and  MacQueen  escorted  Melissy  to  the 
door  of  the  room.  He  stood  aside  with  mock  gal 
lantry  to  let  her  pass. 

"Have  to  lock  you  in,"  he  apologized  airily. 
"Not  that  it  would  do  you  any  good  to  escape. 
We'd  have  you  again  inside  of  twenty-four  hours. 
This  bit  of  the  hills  takes  a  heap  of  knowing.  But 
we  don't  want  you  running  away.  You're  too  tired. 
So  I  lock  the  door  and  lie  down  on  the  porch  under 
your  window.  Adios,  senoriia." 

Melissy  heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock,  and  was 
grateful  for  the  respite  given  her  by  the  night. 
She  was  glad,  too,  that  Boone  was  here.  She  knew 
him  for  a  villain,  but  she  hoped  he  would  stand 
between  her  and  MacQueen  if  the  latter  proved  un 
ruly  in  his  attentions.  Her  guess  was  that  Boone 
was  jealous  of  the  other — of  his  authority  with 
the  gang  to  which  they  both  belonged,  and  now  of 
his  relationship  to  her.  Out  of  this  division  might 
come  hope  for  her. 

So  tired  was  she  that,  in  spite  of  her  alarms, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 261 

sleep  took  her  almost  as  soon  as  her  head  touched 
the  pillow.  When  she  awakened  the  sun  was  shin 
ing  in  at  her  window  above  the  curtain  strung  across 
its  lower  half. 

Some  one  was  knocking  at  the  door.  When  she 
asked  who  was  there,  in  a  voice  which  could  not 
conceal  its  tremors,  the  answer  came  in  feminine 
tones : 

«  'Tis  I— Rosario  Chaves." 

The  Mexican  woman  was  not  communicative,  nor 
did  she  appear  to  be  sympathetic.  The  plight  of 
this  girl  might  have  moved  even  an  unresponsive 
heart,  but  Rosario  showed  a  stolid  face  to  her  dis 
tress.  What  had  to  be  said,  she  said.  For  the  rest, 
she  declined  conversation  absolutely. 

Breakfast  was  served  Melissy  in  her  room,  after 
which  Rosario  led  her  outdoors.  The  woman  gave 
her  to  understand  that  she  might  walk  about  the 
cleared  space,  but  must  not  pass  into  the  woods 
beyond.  To  point  the  need  of  obedience,  Rosario 
seated  herself  on  the  porch,  and  began  doing  some 
drawn  work  upon  which  she  was  engaged. 

Melissy  walked  toward  the  corral,  but  did  not  reach 
it.  An  old  hag  was  seated  in  a  chair  beside  one  of 
the  log  cabins.  From  the  color  of  her  skin  the  girl 
judged  her  to  be  an  Indian  squaw.  She  wore  moc 
casins,  a  dirty  and  shapeless  one-piece  dress,  and 
a  big  sunbonnet,  in  which  her  head  was  buried. 

Sitting  on  the  floor  of  the  porch,  about  fifteen  feet 
from  her,  was  a  hard-faced  customer,  with  stony 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


eyes  like  those  of  a  snake.  He  was  sewing  on  a 
bridle  that  had  given  way.  Melissy  noticed  that 
from  the  pocket  of  his  chaps  the  butt  of  a  revolver 
peeped.  She  judged  it  to  be  the  custom  in  Dead 
Man's  Cache  to  go  garnished  with  weapons. 

Her  curiosity  led  her  to  deflect  toward  the  old 
woman.  But  she  had  not  taken  three  steps  toward 
the  cabin  before  the  man  with  the  jade  eyes  stopped 
her. 

"That'll  be  near  enough,  ma'am,"  he  said,  civilly 
enough.  "This  old  crone  has  a  crazy  spell  when 
ever  a  stranger  comes  nigh.  She's  nutty.  It  ain't 
safe  to  come  nearer — is  it,  old  Sit-in-the-Sun?" 

The  squaw  grunted.  Simultaneously,  she  looked 
up,  and  Miss  Lee  thought  that  she  had  never  seen 
more  piercing  eyes. 

"Is  Sit-in-the-Sun  her  name?"  asked  the  girl 
curiously. 

"That's  the  English  of  it.  The  Navajo  word  is 
a  jawbreaker." 

"Doesn't  she  understand  English?" 

"No  more'n  you  do  Choctaw,  miss." 

A  quick  step  crunched  the  gravel  behind  Melissy. 
She  did  not  need  to  look  around  to  know  that  here 
was  Black  MacQueen. 

"What's  this— what's  this,  Hank?"  he  demanded 
sharply. 

"The  young  lady  started  to  come  up  and  speak  to 
old  Sit-in-the-Sun.  I  was  just  explaining  to  her 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  263 

how  crazy  the  old  squaw  is,"  Jeff  answered  with  a 
grin. 

"Oh!  Is  that  all?"  MacQueen  turned  to  Me- 
lissy. 

"She's  plumb  loony — dangerous,  too.  I  don't 
want  you  to  go  near  her." 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed.  "Very  considerate  of 
you.  But  if  you  want  to  protect  me  from  the  really 
dangerous  people  here,  you  had  better  send  me 
home." 

"I  tell  you  they  do  as  I  say,  every  man  jack  of 
tnem.  I'd  flay  one  alive  if  he  insulted  you." 

"It's  a  privilege  you  don't  sublet  then,"  she  re 
torted  swiftly. 

Admiration  gleamed  through  his  amusement. 
*Gad,  you've  got  a  sharp  tongue.  I'd  pity  the  man 
you  marry — unless  he  drove  with  a  tight  rein." 

"That's  not  what  we're  discussing,  Mr.  Mac- 
Queen.  Are  you  going  to  send  me  home?" 

"Not  till  you've  made  us  a  nice  long  visit,  my 
dear.  You're  quite  safe  here.  My  men  are  plumb 
gentle.  They'll  eat  out  of  your  hand.  They  don't 
insult  ladies.  I've  taught  'em " 

"Pity  you  couldn't  teach  their  leader,  too." 

He  acknowledged  the  hit.  "Come  again,  dearie. 
But  what's  your  complaint?  Haven't  I  treated  you 
white  so  far?" 

"No.  You  insulted  me  grossly  when  you  brought 
me  here  by  force." 

"Did  I  lay  a  hand  on  you?" 


264  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"If  it  had  been  necessary  you  would  have." 

"You're  right,  I  would,"  he  nodded.  "I've  taken 
a  fancy  to  you.  You're  a  good-looking  and  a  plucky 
little  devil.  I've  a  notion  to  fall  in  love  with  you." 

-"Don't!" 

'''•'Why  not?     Say  I'm  a  villain  and  a  bad  lot. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  tie  up  with 

a  fine,  straight-up  young  lady  like  you?    Me,  I  like 

the  way  your  eyes  flash.     You've  got  a  devil  of  a 

temper,  haven't  you?" 

They  had  been  walking  toward  a  pile  of  rocks 
some  little  wray  from  the  cluster  of  cabins.  Now 
he  sat  down  and  smiled  impudently  across  at  her. 

•"That's  my  business,"  she  flung  back  stormily. 

Genially  he  nodded.  "So  it  is.  Mine,  too,  when 
-we  trot  in  double  harness." 

Her  scornful  eyes  swept  up  and  down  him.  "I 
wouldn't  marry  you  if  you  were  the  last  man  on 
earth." 

"No.  Well,  I'm  not  partial  to  that  game  myself. 
I  didn't  mention  matrimony,  did  I?" 

The  meaning  she  read  in  his  mocking,  half-closed 
eyes  startled  the  girl.  Seeing  this,  he  added  with 
a  shrug: 

"Just  as  you  say  about  that.  We'll  make  you 
Mrs.  MacQueen  on  the  level  if  you  like." 

The  passion  in  her  surged  up.  "I'd  rather  lie 
dead  at  your  feet — I'd  rather  starve  in  these  hills 
— I'd  rather  put  a  knife  in  my  heart!" 

He   clapped  his   hands.      "Fine!     Fine!      That 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  2G5 

Bernhardt  woman  hasn't  got  a  thing  on  you  when 
it  comes  to  acting,  my  dear.  You  put  that  across 
bully.  Never  saw  it  done  better." 

"You — coward!"  Her  voice  broke  and  she 
turned  to  leave  him. 

"Stop!"  The  ring  of  the  word  brought  her  feet 
to  a  halt.  MacQueen  padded  across  till  he  faced 
her.  "Don't  make  any  mistake,  girl.  You're  mine. 
I  don't  care  how.  If  it  suits  you  to  have  a  priest 
mumble  words  over  us,  good  enough.  But  I'm  the 
man  you've  got  to  get  ready  to  love." 

"I  hate  you." 

"That's  a  good  start,  you  little  catamount." 

"I'd  rather  die — a  thousand  times  rather." 

"Not  you,  my  dear.  You  think  you  would  right 
now,  but  inside  of  a  week  you'll  be  hunting  for  pet 
names  to  give  me." 

She  ran  blindly  toward  the  house  where  her  room 
was.  On  the  way  she  passed  at  a  little  distance 
Dune  Boone  and  did  not  see  him.  His  hungry  eyes 
followed  her — a  slender  creature  of  white  and  rus 
set  and  gold,  vivid  as  a  hillside  poppy,  compact  of 
life  and  fire  and  grace.  He,  too,  was  a  miscreant 
and  a  villain,  lost  to  honor  and  truth,  but  just  now 
she  held  his  heart  in  the  hollow  of  her  tightly 
clenched  little  fist.  Good  men  and  bad,  at  bottom 
we  are  all  made  of  the  same  stuff,  once  we  are 
down  to  the  primal  emotions  that  go  deeper  than 
civilization's  veneer. 


CHAPTER   VXI 
^TRAPPED  f5 

BLACK  MAcQUEEN  rolled  a  cigarette  and 
savintered  toward  the  other  outlaw. 

"I  reckon  you  better  saddle  up  and  take 
a  look  over  the  Flattops,  Dune.  The  way  I  figure 
it  Lee's  posse  must  be  somewhere  over  there. 
Swing  around  toward  the  Elkhorns  and  get  back 
to  report  by  to-morrow  evening,  say." 

Boone  looked  at  him  in  an  ugly  manner.  **Nothin' 
doing,  MacQueen." 

"What's  that?" 

"I'm  no  greaser,  my  friend.     Orders  don't  go 
with  me." 

"They  don't,  eh?     Who's  major  domo  of  this 
outfit?" 

"I'm  going  to  stay  right  here  in  this  valley  to 
night.     See?" 

"What's  eatin'  you,  man?" 

"And  every  night  so  long  as  Melissy  Lee  stays." 

MacQueen  watched  him  with  steady,  hostile  eyes. 
"So  it's  the  girl,  is  it?     Want  to  cut  in,  do  you? 

266 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  267 

Oh,  no,  my  friend.  Two's  company;  three's  a 
crowd.  She's  mine." 

"No." 

"Yes.  And  another  thing,  Mr.  Boone.  I  don't 
stand  for  any  interference  in  my  plans.  Make  a 
break  at  it  and  you'll  take  a  hurry  up  journey  to 
kingdom  come." 

"Or  you  will." 

"Don't  bank  on  that  off  chance.  The  boys  are 
with  me.  You're  alone.  If  I  give  the  word  they'll 
bump  you  off.  Don't  make  a  mistake,  Boone." 

The  Arkansan  hesitated.  What  MacQueen  said 
was  true  enough.  His  overbearing  disposition  had 
made  him  unpopular.  He  knew  the  others  wrould 
side  against  him  and  that  if  it  came  to  a  showrdown 
they  would  snuff  out  his  life  as  a  man  does  the 
flame  of  a  candle.  The  rage  died  out  of  his  eyes 
and  gave  place  to  a  look  of  cunning. 

"It's  your  say-so,  Black.  But  there  will  be  a  day 
when  it  ain't.  Don't  forget  that." 

"And  in  the  meantime  you'll  ride  the  Flattops 
when  I  give  the  word?" 

Boone  nodded  sulkily.  "I  said  you  had  the  call, 
didn't  I?" 

"Then  ride  'em  now,  damn  you.  And  don't  show 
up  in  the  Cache  till  to-morrow  night." 

MacQueen  turned  on  his  heel  and  strutted  away. 
He  was  elated  at  his  easy  victory.  If  he  had  seen 
the  look  that  followed  him  he  might  not  have  been 
so  quiet  in  his  mind. 


268  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

But  on  the  surface  he  had  cinched  his  leadership. 
Boone  saddled  and  rode  out  of  the  Cache  without 
another  word  to  anybody.  Sullen  and  vindictive  he 
might  be,  but  cowed  he  certainly  seemed.  Mac- 
Queen  celebrated  by  frequent  trips  to  his  sleeping 
quarters,  where  each  time  he  resorted  to  a  bottle 
and  a  glass.  No  man  had  ever  seen  him  intoxicated, 
but  there  were  times  when  he  drank  a  good  deal  for 
a  few  days  at  a  stretch.  His  dissipation  would  be 
followed  by  months  of  total  abstinence. 

All  day  the  man  persecuted  Melissy  with  his  at 
tentions.  His  passion  was  veiled  under  a  manner 
of  mock  deference,  of  insolent  assurance,  but  as  the 
hours  passed  the  fears  of  the  girl  grew  upon  her. 
There  were  moments  when  she  turned  sick  with 
waves  of  dread.  In  the  sunshine,  under  the  open 
sky,  she  could  hold  her  own,  but  under  cover  of 
the  night's  blackness  ghastly  horrors  would  creep 
toward  her  to  destroy. 

Nor  was  there  anybody  to  whom  she  might  turn 
for  help.  Lane  and  Jackson  were  tools  of  their 
leader.  The  Mexican  woman  could  do  nothing  even 
if  she  would.  Boone  alone  might  have  helped  her, 
and  he  had  ridden  away  to  save  his  own  skin.  So 
MacQueen  told  her  to  emphasize  his  triumph  and 
her  helplessness. 

To  her  fancy  dusk  fell  over  the  valley  like  a  pall. 
It  brought  with  it  the  terrible  night,  under  cover 
of  which  unthinkable  things  might  be  done.  With 
no  appetite,  she  sat  down  to  supper  opposite  her 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  269 

captor.  To  see  him  gloat  over  her  made  her  heart 
sink.  Her  courage  was  of  no  avail  against  the 
thing  that  threatened. 

Supper  over,  he  made  her  sit  with  him  on  the 
porch  for  an  hour  to  listen  to  his  boasts  of  former 
conquests.  And  when  he  let  her  take  her  way  to 
her  room  it  was  not  "Good-night"  but  a  mocking 
"Au  revoir"  he  murmured  as  he  bent  to  kiss  her 
hand. 

Melissy  found  Rosario  waiting  for  her,  crouched 
in  the  darkness  of  the  room  that  had  been  given 
the  young  woman.  The  Mexican  spoke  in  her  own 
language,  softly,  with  many  glances  of  alarm  to 
make  sure  they  were  alone. 

"Hist,  senorita.  Here  is  a  note.  Read  it.  De 
stroy  it.  Swear  not  to  betray  Rosario." 

By  the  light  of  a  match  Melissy  read: 

"Behind  the  big  rocks.     In  half  an  hour. 

"A  FRIEND." 

What  could  it  mean?  Who  could  have  sent  it? 
Rosario  would  answer  no  questions.  She  snatched 
the  note,  tore  it  into  fragments,  chewed  them  into 
a  pulp.  Then,  still  shaking  her  head  obstinately, 
hurriedly  left  the  room. 

But  at  least  it  meant  hope.  Her  mind  flew  from 
her  father  to  Jack  Flatray,  Bellamy,  young  Yarnell. 
It  might  be  any  of  them.  Or  it  might  be  O'Con 
nor,  who,  perhaps,  had  by  some  miracle  escaped. 


270  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

The  minutes  were  hours  to  her.  Interminably 
they  dragged.  The  fear  rose  in  her  that  MacQueen 
might  come  in  time  to  cut  off  her  escape.  At  last, 
in  her  stocking  feet,  carrying  her  shoes  in  her  hand, 
she  stole  into  the  hall,  out  to  the  porch,  and  from 
it  to  the  shadows  of  the  cottonwoods. 

It  was  a  night  of  both  moon  and  stars.  She  had 
to  cross  a  space  washed  in  silvery  light,  taking  the 
chance  that  nobody  would  see  her.  But  first  she 
stooped  in  the  shadows  to  slip  the  shoes  upon  her 
feet.  Her  heart  beat  against  her  side  as  she  had 
once  seen  that  of  a  frightened  mouse  do.  It  seemed 
impossible  for  her  to  cover  all  that  moonlit  open 
unseen.  Every  moment  she  expected  an  alarm  to 
ring  out  in  the  silent  night.  But  none  came. 

Safely  she  reached  the  big  rocks.  A  voice  called 
to  her  softly.  She  answered,  and  came  face  to  face 
with  Boone.  A  drawn  revolver  was  in  his  hand. 

"You  made  it,"  he  panted,  as  a  man  might  who 
had  been  running  hard. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered.  "But  they'll  soon  know. 
Let  us  get  away." 

"If  you  hadn't  come  I  was  going  in  to  kill  him." 

She  noticed  the  hard  glitter  in  his  eyes  as  he 
spoke,  the  crouched  look  of  the  padding  tiger  ready 
for  its  kill.  The  man  was  torn  with  hatred  and  jeal 
ousy. 

Already  they  were  moving  back  through  the 
rocks  to  a  dry  wash  that  ran  through  the  valley. 
The  bed  of  this  they  followed  for  nearly  a  mile. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  271 

Deflecting  from  it  they  pushed  across  the  valley  to 
ward  what  appeared  to  be  a  sheer  rock  wall.  With 
a  twist  to  the  left  they  swung  back  of  a  face  of 
rock,  turned  sharply  to  the  right,  and  found  them 
selves  in  a  fissure  Melissy  had  not  at  all  expected. 
Here  ran  a  little  canon  known  only  to  those  few 
who  rode  up  and  down  it  on  the  nefarious  busi 
ness  of  their  unwholesome  lives. 

Boone  spoke  harshly,  breaking  for  the  first  time 
in  half  an  hour  his  moody  silence. 

"Safe  at  last.  By  God,  I've  evened  my  score 
with  Black  MacQueen." 

And  from  the  cliff  above  came  the  answer — a 
laugh  full  of  mocking  deviltry  and  malice. 

The  Arkansan  turned  upon  Melissy  a  startled  face 
of  agony,  in  which  despair  and  hate  stood  out  of 
a  yellow  pallor. 

"Trapped." 

It  was  his  last  word  to  her.  He  swept  the  girl 
back  against  the  shelter  of  the  wall  and  ran  crouch 
ing  toward  the  entrance. 

A  bullet  zipped — a  second — a  third.  He  stum 
bled,  but  did  not  fall.  Turning,  he  came  back, 
dodging  like  a  hunted  fox.  As  he  passed  her,  Me 
lissy  saw  that  his  face  was  ghastly.  He  ran  with 
a  limp. 

A  second  time  she  heard  the  cackle  of  laughter. 
Guns  cracked.  Still  the  doomed  man  pushed  for 
ward.  He  went  down,  struck  in  the  body,  but 
dragged  himself  to  his  feet  and  staggered  on. 


272  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

All  this  time  he  had  seen  nobody  at  whom  he 
could  fire.  Not  a  shot  had  come  from  his  revolver. 
He  sank  behind  a  rock  for  shelter.  The  ping  of 
a  bullet  on  the  shale  beside  him  brought  the  tor 
tured  man  to  his  feet.  He  looked  wildly  about  him, 
the  moon  shining  on  his  bare  head,  and  plunged 
up  the  canon. 

And  now  it  appeared  his  unseen  tormentors  were 
afraid  he  might  escape  them.  Half  a  dozen  shots 
came  close  together.  Boone  sank  to  the  ground, 
writhed  like  a  crushed  worm,  and  twisted  over  so 
that  his  face  was  to  the  moonlight. 

Melissy  ran  forward  and  knelt  beside  him. 

"They've  got  me     ...     in  half  a  dozen  places, 
.     .     .     I'm  going  fast." 

"Oh,  no     ...     no,"  the  girl  protested. 

"Yep.  .  .  .  Surest  thing  you  know.  .  .  . 
I  did  you  dirt  onct,  girl.  And  I've  been  a  bad  lot 
—a  wolf,  a  killer." 

"Never  mind  that  now.  You  died  to  save  me. 
Always  I'll  remember  that." 

"Onct  you  'most  loved  me.  .  .  .  But  it 
wouldn't  have  done.  I'm  a  wolf  and  you're  a  little 
white  lamb.  Is  Flatray  the  man?" 

"Yes." 

"Thought  so.  Well,  he's  square.  I  rigged  it  up 
on  him  about  the  rustling.  I  was  the  man  you  liked 
to  'a'  caught  that  day  years  ago." 

"You!" 

"Yep."      He  broke   off   abruptly.      "I'm   going, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  273 

girl.  .  .  .  It's  gittin'  black.  Hold  my  hand  till 
—till " 

He  gave  a  shudder  and  seemed  to  fall  together. 
He  was  dead. 

Melissy  heard  the  sound  of  rubble  slipping. 
Some  one  was  lowering  himself  cautiously  down  the 
side  of  the  canon.  A  man  dropped  to  the  \vash  and 
strutted  toward  her.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
lifeless  form,  rifle  ready  for  action  at  an  instant's 
notice.  When  he  reached  his  victim  he  pushed  the 
body  with  his  foot,  made  sure  of  no  trap,  and  re 
laxed  his  alertness. 

"Dead  as  a  hammer." 

The  man  was  MacOueen.  He  turned  to  Melissy 
and  nodded  jauntily. 

"Good  evening,  my  dear.  Just  taking  a  little 
stroll?"  he  asked  ironically. 

The  girl  leaned  against  the  cold  wall  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  arm.  She  was  sobbing  hysteri 
cally. 

The  outlaw  seized  her  by  the  shoulders  and 
swung  her  round.  "Cut  that  out,  girl,"  he  ordered 
roughly. 

Melissy  caught  at  her  sobs  and  tried  to  check 
them. 

"He  got  what  was  coming  to  him,  what  he's  been 
playing  for  a  long  time.  I  warned  him,  but  the  fool 
wouldn't  see  it." 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  asked,  getting  out  her 
question  a  word  at  a  time. 


#74  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Knew  it  all  the  time.  Rosario  brought  his  note 
to  me.  I  told  her  to  take  it  to  you  and  keep  her 
mouth  shut." 

"You  planned  his  death." 

"If  you  like  to  put  it  that  way.  Now  we'll  go 
home  and  forget  this  foolishness.  Jeff,  bring  the 
horses  round  to  the  mouth  of  the  gulch." 

Melissy  felt  suddenly  very,  very  tired  and  old. 
Her  feet  dragged  like  those  of  an  Indian  squaw 
following  her  master.  It  was  as  though  heavy  irons 
weighted  her  ankles. 

MacQueen  helped  her  to  one  of  the  horses  Jack 
son  brought  to  the  lip  of  the  gulch.  Weariness  rode 
on  her  shoulders  all  the  way  back.  The  soul  of  her 
was  crushed  beneath  the  misfortunes  that  oppressed 
her. 

Long  before  they  reached  the  ranch  houses  Ro 
sario  came  running  to  meet  them.  Plainly  she  was 
in  great  excitement. 

"The  prisoners  have  escaped,"  she  cried  to  Mac- 
Queen. 

"Escaped.    How?"  demanded  Black. 

"Some  one  must  have  helped  them.  I  heard  a 
window  smash  and  ran  out.  The  young  ranger 
and  another  man  were  coming  out  of  the  last  cabin 
with  the  old  man.  I  could  do  nothing.  They  ran." 

They  had  been  talking  in  her  own  language. 
MacQueen  jabbed  another  question  at  her. 

"Which  way?" 

'Toward  the  Pass." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  275 

The  outlaw  ripped  out  an  oath.  "We've  got  'em. 
They  can't  reach  it  without  horses  as  quick  as  we 
can  with  them."  He  whirled  upon  Melissy. 
"March  into  the  house,  girl.  Don't  you  dare  make 
a  move.  I'm  leaving  Buck  here  to  watch  you." 
Sharply  he  swung  to  the  man  Lane.  "Buck,  if  she 
makes  a  break  to  get  away,  riddle  her  full  of  holes. 
You  hear  me." 

A  minute  later,  from  the  place  where  she  lay  face 
down  on  the  bed,  Melissy  heard  him  and  his  men 
gallop  away. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN   ESCAPE  AND  A    CAPTURE 

FAR  up  in  the  mountains,  in  that  section  where 
head  the  Roaring  Fork,  One  Horse  Creek, 
and  the  Del  Oro,  is  a  vast  tract  of  wild,  un- 
traveled  country  known  vaguely  as  the  Bad  Lands. 
Somewhere  among  the  thousand  and  one  canons 
which  cleft  the  huddled  hills  lay  hidden  Dead  Man's 
Cache.  Here  Black  MacQueen  retreated  on  those 
rare  occasions  when  the  pursuit  grew  hot  on  his 
tracks.  So  the  current  report  ran. 

Whether  the  abductors  of  Simon  West  were  to 
be  found  in  the  Cache  or  at  some  other  nest  in  the 
almost  inaccessible  ridges  Jack  Flatray  had  no  means 
of  knowing.  His  plan  was  to  follow  the  Roaring 
Fork  almost  to  its  headquarters,  and  there  estab 
lish  a  base  for  his  hunt.  It  might  take  him  a  week 
to  flush  his  game.  It  might  take  a  month.  He 
clamped  his  bulldog  jaw  to  see  the  thing  out  to  a 
finish. 

Jack  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  underestimating 
his  job.  He  had  followed  the  trail  of  bad  men 
often  enough  to  know  that,  in  a  frontier  country, 
^no  hunt  is  so  desperate  as  the  man-hunt.  Such  men 

276 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  £77 

are  never  easily  taken,  even  if  they  do  not  have 
all  the  advantage  in  the  deadly  game  of  hide  and 
seek  that  is  played  in  the  timber  and  the  pockets  of 
the  hills. 

And  here  the  odds  all  lay  with  the  hunted.  They 
knew  every  ravine  and  gulch.  Day  by  day  their 
scout  looked  down  from  mountain  ledges  to  watch 
the  progress  of  the  posse. 

Moreover,  Flatray  could  never  tell  at  what  mo 
ment  his  covey  might  be  startled  from  its  run.  The 
greatest  vigilance  was  necessary  to  make  sure  his 
own  party  would  not  be  ambushed.  Yet  slowly  he 
combed  the  arroyos  and  the  ridges,  drawing  always, 
closer  to  that  net  of  gulches  in  which  he  knew  Dead 
Man's  Cache  must  be  located. 

During  the  day  the  sheriff  split  his  party  into, 
couples.  Bellamy  and  Alan  McKinstra,  Farnum 
and  Charlie  Hymer,  young  Yarnell  and  the  sheriff. 
So  Jack  had  divided  his  posse,  thus  leaving  at  the. 
head  of  each  detail  one  old  and  wise  head.  Each 
night  the  parties  met  at  the  rendezvous  appointed, 
for  the  wranglers  with  the  pack  horses.  From  sun 
rise  to  sunset  often  no  face  was  seen  other  than 
those  of  their  own  outfit.  Sometimes  a  solitary 
sheep  herder  was  discovered  at  his  post.  Always 
the  work  was  hard,  discouraging,  and  apparently 
futile.  But  the  young  sheriff  never  thought  of 
quitting. 

The  provisions  gave  out.  Jack  sent  back  Hal 
Yarnell  and  Hegler,  the  wrangler,  to  bring  in  n 


278  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

fresh  supply.  Meanwhile  the  young  sheriff  took  a 
big  chance  and  scouted  alone.  He  parted  from  the 
young  Arkansan  at  the  head  of  a  gulch  which 
twisted  snakelike  into  the  mountains;  Yarnell  and 
the  pack  outfit  to  ride  to  Mammoth,  Flatray  to  dive 
still  deeper  into  the  mesh  of  hills.  He  had  the  in 
stinct  of  the  scout  to  stick  to  the  high  places  as 
much  as  he  could.  Whenever  it  was  possible  he  fol 
lowed  ridges,  so  that  no  spy  could  look  down  upon 
him  as  he  traveled.  Sometimes  the  contour  of  the 
country  drove  him  into  the  open  or  down  into  hol 
lows.  But  in  such  places  he  advanced  with  the 
swift  stealth  of  an  Indian. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  he  had 
been  driven  into  a  dark  and  narrow  canon,  that  he 
came  to  a  sudden  halt.  He  was  looking  at  an 
empty  tomato  can.  Swinging  down  from  his  saddle, 
he  picked  it  up  without  dismounting.  A  little  juice 
dripped  from  the  can  to  the  ground. 

Flatray  needed  no  explanation.  In  Arizona  noen 
on  the  range  often  carry  a  can  of  tomatoes  instead 
of  a  water  canteen.  Nothing  alleviates  thirst  like 
the  juice  of  this  acid  fruit.  Some  one  had  opened 
this  can  within  two  hours.  Otherwise  the  sun  would 
have  dried  the  moisture. 

Jack  took  his  rifle  from  its  place  beneath  his  legs 
and  set  it  across  the  saddle  in  front  of  him.  Very 
carefully  he  continued  on  his  way,  watching  every 
rock  and  bush  ahead  of  him.  Here  and  there  in 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  279 

the  sand  were  printed  the  signs  of  a  horse  going 
in  the  same  direction  as  his. 

Up  and  down,  in  and  out  of  a  maze  of  crooked 
paths,  working  by  ever  so  devious  a  way  higher  into 
the  chain  of  mountains,  Jack  followed  his  leader. 
Now  he  would  lose  the  hoof  marks;  now  he  would 
pick  them  up  again.  And,  at  the  last,  they  brought 
him  to  the  rim  of  a  basin,  a  bowl  of  wooded  ravines, 
of  twisted  ridges,  of  bleak  spurs  jutting  into  late 
pastures  almost  green.  It  was  now  past  sunset. 
Dusk  was  filtering  down  from  the  blue  peaks.  As 
he  looked  a  star  peeped  out  low  on  the  horizon. 

But  was  it  a  star  ?  He  glimpsed  it  between  trees. 
The  conviction  grew  on  him  that  what  he  saw  was 
the  light  of  a  lamp.  A  tangle  of  rough  country 
lay  between  him  and  that  beacon,  but  there  before 
him  lay  his  destination.  At  last  he  had  found  his 
way  into  Dead  Man's  Cache. 

The  sheriff  lost  no  time,  for  he  knew  that  if  he 
should  get  lost  in  the  darkness  on  one  of  these  for 
est  slopes  he  might  wander  all  night.  A  rough  trail 
led  him  down  into  the  basin.  Now  he  would  lose 
sight  of  the  light.  Half  an  hour  later,  pushing  to 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  he  might  find  it.  After  a  time 
there  twinkled  a  second  beside  the  first.  He  was 
getting  close  to  a  settlement  of  some  kind. 

Below  him  in  the  darkness  lay  a  stretch  of  open 
meadow  rising  to  the  wooded  foothills.  Behind 
these  a  wall  of  rugged  mountains  encircled  the  val 
ley  like  a  gigantic  crooked  arm.  Alre/dy  he  could 


280  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

make  out  faintly  the  outlines  of  the  huddled 
buildings. 

Slipping  from  his  horse,  Jack  went  forward  cau 
tiously  on  foot.  He  was  still  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  nearest  hut  when  dogs  bayed  warning  of  his 
approach.  He  waited,  rifle  in  hand.  No  sign  of 
human  life  showed  except  the  two  lights  shining 
from  as  many  windows.  Flatray  counted  four  other 
cabins  as  dark  as  Egypt. 

Very  slowly  he  crept  forward,  always  with  one 
-eye  to  his  retreat.  Why  did  nobody  answer  the 
barking  of  the  dogs?  Was  he  being  watched  all 
the  time  ?  But  how  could  he  be,  since  he  was  com 
pletely  cloaked  in  darkness? 

So  at  last  he  came  to  the  nearest  cabin,  crept  to 
the  window,  and  looked  in.  A  man  lay  on  a  bed. 
His  hands  and  feet  were  securely  tied  and  a  second 
rope  wound  round  so  as  to  bind  him  to  the  bunk. 

Flatray  tapped  softly  on  a  pane.  Instantly  the 
'head  of  the  bound  man  slewed  round. 

"Friend?" 

The  prisoner  asked  it  ever  so  gently,  but  the  sher 
iff  heard. 

"Yes." 

"The  top  part  of  the  window  is  open.  You  can 
crawl  over,  I  reckon." 

Jack  climbed  on  the  sill  and  from  it  through  the 
window.  Almost  before  he  reached  the  floor  his 
knife  was  out  and  he  was  slashing  at  the  ropes. 

"Better  put  the  light  out,  pardner,"  suggested  the 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  281 

man  he  was  freeing,  and  the  officer  noticed  that 
there  was  no  tremor  in  the  cool,  steady  voice. 

'That's  right.  We'd  make  a  fine  mark  through 
the  window." 

And  the  light  went  out. 

"I'm  Bucky  O'Connor.    Who  are  you?" 

"Jack  Flatray." 

They  spoke  together  in  whispers.  Though  both 
were  keyed  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement  they 
were  as  steady  as  eight-day  clocks.  O'Connor 
stretched  his  limbs,  flexing  them  this  way  and  that, 
so  that  he  might  have  perfect  control  of  them.  He 
worked  especially  over  the  forearm  and  fingers  of 
his  right  arm. 

Flatray  handed  him  a  revolver. 

"Whenever  you're  ready,  Lieutenant." 

"All  right.    It's  the  cabin  next  to  this." 

They  climbed  out  of  the  window  noiselessly  and 
crept  to  the  next  hut.  The  door  was  locked,  the 
window  closed. 

"We've  got  to  smash  the  window.  Nothing  else 
for  it,"  Flatray  whispered. 

"Looks  like  it.  That  means  we'll  have  to  shoot 
our  way  out." 

With  the  butt  of  his  rifle  the  sheriff  shattered  the 
woodwork  of  the  window,  driving  the  whole  frame 
into  the  room. 

"What  is  it?"  a  frightened  voice  demanded. 

"Friends,  Mr.  West.    Just  a  minute." 

It  took  them  scarce  longer  than  that  to  free  him 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


and  to  get  him  into  the  open.  A  Mexican  woman 
came  screaming  out  of  an  adjoining  cabin. 

The  young  men  caught  each  an  arm  of  the  capi 
talist  and  hurried  him  forward. 

"Hell'll  be  popping  in  a  minute,"  Flatray  ex 
plained. 

But  they  reached  the  shelter  of  the  underbrush 
without  a  shot  having  been  fired.  Nor  had  a  single 
man  appeared  to  dispute  their  escape. 

"Looks  like  most  of  the  family  is  away  from 
home  to-night,"  Bucky  hazarded. 

"Maybe  so,  but  they're  liable  to  drop  in  any  min 
ute.  We'll  keep  covering  ground." 

They  circled  round  toward  the  sheriffs  horse. 
,s  soon  as  they  reached  it  West,  still  stiff  from 
#ant  of  circulation  in  his  cramped  limbs,  was 
boosted  into  the  saddle. 

"It's  going  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  guess  to  find 
our  way  out  of  the  Cache,"  Jack  explained.  "Even 
in  the  daytime  it  would  take  a  'Pache,  but  at  night  — 
well,  here's  hoping  the  luck's  good." 

They  found  it  not  so  good  as  they  had  hoped. 
For  hours  they  wandered  in  mesquit,  dragged  them 
selves  through  cactus,  crossed  washes,  and  climbed 
hills. 

"This  will  never  do.  We'd  better  give  it  up  till 
daylight.  We're  not  getting  anywhere,"  the  sheriff 
suggested. 

They  did  as  he  advised.  As  soon  as  a  faint  gray 
sifted  into  the  sky  they  were  on  the  move  again,. 


BKAND    BLOTTERS  283 

But  whichever  way  they  climbed  it  was  always  to 
come  up  against  steep  cliffs  too  precipitous  to  be 
scaled. 

The  ranger  officer  pointed  to  a  notch  beyond  a 
cowbacked  hill.  "I  wouldn't  be  sure,  but  it  looks 
like  that  was  the  way  they  brought  me  into  the 
Cache.  I  could  tell  if  I  were  up  there.  What's  the 
matter  with  my  going  ahead  and  settling  the  thing  ? 
If  I'm  right  I'll  come  back  and  let  you  know." 

Jack  looked  at  West.  The  railroad  man  was 
tired  and  drawn.  He  was  not  used  to  galloping 
over  the  hills  all  night. 

"All  right.  We'll  be  here  when  you  come  back," 
Flatray  said,  and  flung  himself  on  the  ground. 

West  followed  his  example. 

It  must  have  been  half  an  hour  later  that  Flatray 
tieard  a  twig  snap  under  an  approaching  foot.  He 
had  been  scanning  the  valley  with  his  glasses,  hav 
ing  given  West  instructions  to  keep  a  lookout  in 
the  rear.  He  swung  his  head  round  sharply,  and 
with  it  his  rifle. 

"You're  covered,  you  fool/'  cried  the  man  who 
was  strutting  toward  them. 

"Stop  there.  Not  another  step."  Flatray  called 
sharply. 

The  man  stopped,  his  rifle  half  raised.  "We've 
got  you  on  every  side,  man."  He  lifted  his  voice. 
"Jeff — Hank — Steve!  Let  him  know  you're  alive." 

Three  guns  cracked  and  kicked  up  the  dust  close 
to  the  sheriff. 


284  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"What  do  you  want  with  us?"  Flatray  asked, 
sparring  for  time. 

"Drop  your  gun.  If  you  don't  we'll  riddle  you 
both." 

West  spoke  to  Jack  promptly.  "Do  as  he  says. 
It's  MacQueen." 

Flatray  hesitated.  He  could  kill  MacQueen  prob 
ably,  but  almost  certainly  he  and  West  would  pay 
the  penalty.  He  reluctantly  put  his  rifle  down. 
"All  right.  It's  your  call." 

"Where's  O'Connor?" 

The  sheriff  looked  straight  at  him.  "Haven't 
you  enough  of  us  for  one  gather?" 

The  outlaws  were  closing  in  on  them  cautiously. 

"Not  without  that  smart  man  hunter.  Where  is 
he?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"The  devil  you  don't." 

"We  separated  early  this  morning — thought  it 
would  give  us  a  better  chance  for  a  getaway." 
Jack  gave  a  sudden  exclamation  of  surprise.  "So 
it  was  Black  MacQueen  himself  who  posed  as  O'Con 
nor  down  at  Mesa." 

"Guessed  it  right,  my  friend.  And  I'll  tell  you 
one  thing:  you've  made  the  mistake  of  your  life 
butting  into  Dead  Man's  Cache.  Your  missing 
friend  O'Connor  was  due  to  hand  in  his  checks  to 
day.  Since  you've  taken  his  place  it  will  be  you  »s 
that  crosses  the  divide,  Mr.  Sheriff.  You'd  better 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  285 

tell  where  he  is,  for  if  we  don't  get  Mr.  Bucky  it 
will  be  God  help  J.  Flatray." 

The  dapper  little  villain  exuded  a  smug,  compla 
cent  cruelty.  It  was  no  use  for  the  sheriff  to  remind 
himself  that  such  things  weren't  done  nowadays, 
that  the  times  of  Geronimo  and  the  Apache  Kid 
were  past  forever.  Black  MacQueen  would  go  the 
limit  in  deviltry  if  he  set  his  mind  to  it. 

Yet  Flatray  answered  easily,  without  any  percep 
tible  hesitation :  "I  reckon  I'll  play  my  hand  and 
let  Bucky  play  his." 

"Suits  me  if  it  does  you.  Jeff,  collect  that  hard 
ware.  Now,  while  you  boys  beat  up  the  hills  for 
O'Connor,  I'll  trail  back  to  camp  with  these  two 
all-night  picnickers." 


M 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   BARGAIN 

ELISSY  saw  the  two  prisoners  brought  in, 
though  she  could  not  tell  at  that  distance 
who  they  were.  Her  watch  told  her  that 
it  was  four-thirty.  She  had  slept  scarcely  at  all 
during  the  night,  but  now  she  lay  down  on  the  bed 
in  her  clothes. 

The  next  she  knew,  Rosario  was  calling  her  to 
get  up  for  breakfast.  The  girl  dressed  and  fol 
lowed  Rosario  to  the  adjoining  cabin.  MacQueen 
was  not  there,  and  Melissy  ate  alone.  She  was  given 
to  understand  that  she  might  walk  up  and  down  in 
front  of  the  houses  for  a  few  minutes  after  break 
fast.  Naturally  she  made  the  most  of  the  little  lib 
erty  allowed  her. 

The  old  squaw  Sit-in-the-Sun  squatted  in  front 
of  the  last  hut,  her  back  against  the  log  wall.  The 
man  called  Buck  sat  yawning  on  a  rock  a  few  yards 
away.  What  struck  Melissy  as  strange  was  that 
the  squaw  was  figuring  on  the  back  of  an  old  en 
velope  with  the  stub  of  a  lead  pencil 

286 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  287 

The  young  woman  walked  leisurely  past  the  cabin 
for  perhaps  a  dozen  yards. 

"That'll  be  about  far  enough.  You  don't  want 
to  tire  yourself,  Miss  Lee,"  Buck  Lane  called,  with 
a  grin, 

Melissy  stopped,  stood  looking  at  the  mountains 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  turned  back.  Sit-in-the- 
Sun  looked  quickly  at  her,  and  at  the  same  moment 
she  tore  the  paper  in  two  and  her  fingers  opened  to 
release  one  piece  of  the  envelope  upon  which  she 
had  been  writing.  A  puff  of  wind  carried  it  almost 
directly  in  front  of  the  girl.  Lane  was  still  yawning 
sleepily,  his  gaze  directed  toward  the  spot  where 
he  presently  expected  Rosario  to  step  out  and  call 
him  to  breakfast.  Melissy  dropped  her  handker 
chief,  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  gathered  at  the  same 
time  in  a  crumpled  heap  into  her  hand  the  fragment 
of  an  envelope.  Without  another  glance  at  the 
squaw,  the  young  woman  kept  on  her  way,  saun 
tered  to  the  porch,  and  lingered  there  as  if  in  doubt. 

"I'm  tired,"  she  announced  to  Rosario,  and 
turned  to  her  rooms. 

"Si,  senorita"  answered  her  attendant  quietly. 

Once  inside,  Melissy  lay  down  on  her  bed,  with 
her  back  to  the  window,  and  smoothed  out  the  torn 
envelope.  On  one  side  were  some  disjointed  mem 
oranda  which  she  did  not  understand. 

K.C.  &T.     93 

D.  &  R.  B.     87 

Float  $10,000,000  Cortes  for  extension. 


288  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

That  was  all,  but  certainly  a  strange  puzzle  for 
a  Navajo  squaw  to  set  her. 

She  turned  the  paper  over,  to  find  the  other  side 
close-packed  with  writing. 

Miss  Lee : 

In  the  last  cabin  but  one  is  a  prisoner, 
your  friend  Sheriff  Flatray.  He  is  to  be 
shot  in  an  hour.  I  have  offered  any  sum 
for  his  life  and  been  refused.  For  God's 
sake  save  him  somehow. 

Simon  West. 

Jack  Flatray  here,  and  about  to  be  murdered! 

The  thing  was  incredible.  And  yet — and  yet 

Was  it  so  impossible,  after  all?  Some  one  had 
broken  into  the  Cache  and  released  the  prisoners. 
WTho  more  likely  than  Jack  to  have  done  this?  And 
later  they  had  captured  him  and  condemned  him 
for  what  he  had  done. 

Melissy  reconstructed  the  scene  in  a  flash.  The 
Indian  squaw  was  West.  He  had  been  rigged  up 
in  that  paraphernalia  to  deceive  any  chance  moun 
taineer  who  might  drop  into  the  valley  by  acci 
dent. 

No  doubt,  when  he  first  saw  Melissy,  the  railroad 
magnate  had  been  passing  his  time  in  making  notes 
about  his  plans  for  the  system  he  controlled.  But 
when  he  had  caught  sight  of  her,  he  had  written 
the  note,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  guard,  had  torn 
the  envelope  as  if  it  were  of  no  importance,  and 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  289 

tossed  the  pieces  away.  He  had  taken  the  thou 
sandth  chance  that  his  note  might  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  directed. 

All  this  she  understood  without  giving  it  con 
scious  thought.  For  her  whole  mind  was  filled  with 
the  horror  of  what  she  had  learned.  Jack  Flatray, 
the  man  she  loved,  was  to  be  killed.  He  was  to  be 
shot  down  in  an  hour. 

With  the  thought,  she  was  at  her  door — only  to 
find  that  it  had  been  quietly  locked  while  she  lay 
on  the  bed.  No  doubt  they  had  meant  to  keep  her 
a  close  prisoner  until  the  thing  they  were  about  to 
do  was  finished.  She  beat  upon  it,  called  to  Rosario 
to  let  her  out,  wrung  her  hands  in  her  desperation. 
Then  she  remembered  the  window.  It  was  a  cheap 
and  flimsy  case,  and  had  been  jammed  so  that  her 
strength  was  not  sufficient  to  raise  it. 

Her  eye  searched  the  room  for  a  weapon,  and 
found  an  Indian  tom-tom  club.  With  this  she 
smashed  the  panes  and  beat  down  the  wooden  cross 
bars  of  the  sash.  Agile  as  a  forest  fawn,  she  slipped 
through  the  opening  she  had  made  and  ran  toward 
the  far  cabin. 

A  group  of  men  surrounded  the  door;  and,  as 
she  drew  near,  it  opened  to  show  three  central  fig 
ures.  MacQueen  was  one,  Rosario  Chaves  a  sec 
ond;  but  the  most  conspicuous  was  a  bareheaded 
young  man,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him.  He 
was  going  to  his  death,  but  a  glance  was  enough 


290  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

to  show  that  he  went  unconquered  and  unconquer 
able.  His  step  did  not  drag.  There  was  a  faint, 
grave  smile  on  his  lips;  and  in  his  eye  was  the  dy 
namic  spark  that  proclaimed  him  still  master  of  his 
fate.  The  woolen  shirt  had  been  unbuttoned  and 
pulled  back  to  make  way  for  the  rope  that  lay 
loosely  about  his  neck,  so  that  she  could  not  miss 
the  well-muscled  slope  of  his  fine  shoulders,  or  the 
gallant  set  of  the  small  head  upon  the  brown 
throat. 

The  man  who  first  caught  sight  of  Melissy  spoke 
in  a  low  voice  to  his  chief.  MacQueen  turned  his 
head  sharply  to  see  her,  took  a  dozen  steps  toward 
her,  then  upbraided  the  Mexican  woman,  who  had 
run  out  after  Melissy. 

"I  told  you  to  lock  her  door — to  make  sure  of  it." 

"Si,  senor—I  did." 

"Then  how "  He  stopped,  and  looked  to 

Miss  Lee  for  an  explanation. 

"I  broke  the  window." 

The  outlaw  noticed  then  that  her  hand  was  bleed 
ing.  "Broke  the  window !  Why  ?" 

"I  had  to  get  out!    I  had  to  stop  you!" 

He  attempted  no  denial  of  what  he  was  about  to 
\do.  "How  did  you  know  ?  Did  Rosario  tell  you  ?" 
he  asked  curtly. 

"No — no!     I  found  out — just  by  chance." 

"What  chance?"  He  was  plainly  disconcerted 
that  she  had  come  to  interfere,  and  as  plainly  eager 
to  punish  the  person  who  had  disclosed  to  her  this 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 291 

thing,  which  he  would  have  liked  to  do  quietly, 
without  her  knowledge. 

"Never  mind  that.  Nobody  is  to  blame.  Say  I 
overheard  a  sentence.  Thank  God  I  did,  and  I  am 
in  time." 

There  was  no  avoiding  it  now.  He  had  to  fight 
it  out  with  her.  "In  time  for  what?"  he  wanted  to 
know,  his  eyes  narrowing  to  vicious  pin  points. 

"To  save  him." 

"No — no!  He  must  die,"  cried  the  Mexican 
woman. 

Melissy  was  amazed  at  her  vehemence,  at  the  pas 
sion  of  hate  that  trembled  in  the  voice  of  the  old 
woman. 

MacQueen  nodded.  "It  is  out  of  my  hands,  you 
see.  He  has  been  condemned." 

"But  why?" 

"Tell  her,  Rosario." 

The  woman  poured  her  story  forth  fluently  in 
the  native  tongue.  O'Connor  had  killed  her  son — • 
4id  not  deny  that  he  had  done  it.  And  just  because 
'Tony  had  tried  to  escape.  This  man  had  freed  the 
ranger.  Very  well.  He  should  take  O'Connor's 
place.  Let  him  die  the  death.  A  life  for  a  life. 
Was  that  not  fair? 

Flatray  turned  his  head  and  caught  sight  of  Me 
lissy.  A  startled  cry  died  on  his  lips. 

"Jack !"  She  held  out  both  hands  to  him  as  she 
ran  toward  him. 

The  sheriff  took  her  in  his  arms  to  console  her. 


292  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

For  the  girl's  face  was  working  in  a  stress  of  emo 
tion. 

"Oh,  I'm  in  time — I'm  in  time.  Thank  God  I'm 
,  in  time.'* 

Jack  waited  a  moment  to  steady  his  voice.  "How 
came  you  here,  Melissy?" 

"He  brought  me — Black  MacQueen.  I  hated 
him  for  it,  but  now  I'm  glad — so  glad — because  I 
can  save  you." 

Jack  winced.  He  looked  over  her  shoulder  at 
MacQueen,  taking  it  all  in  with  an  air  of  pleasant 
politeness.  And  one  look  was  enough  to  tell  him 
that  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  The  outlaw  had 
the  complacent  manner  of  a  cat  which  has  just  got 
at  the  cream.  That  Melissy  loved  him  would  be 
an  additional  reason  for  wiping  him  off  the  map. 
And  in  that  instant  a  fierce  joy  leaped  up  in  Flat- 
ray  and  surged  through  him,  an  emotion  stronger 
than  the  fear  of  death.  She  loved  him.  MacQueen 
could  not  take  that  away  from  him. 

"It's  all  a  mistake,"  Melissy  went  on  eagerly. 
"Of  course  they  can't  blame  you  for  what  Lieuten 
ant  O'Connor  did.  It  is  absurd — ridiculous." 

"Certainly."  MacQueen  tugged  at  his  little  black 
mustache  and  kept  his  black  eyes  on  her  constantly. 
"That's  not  what  we're  blaming  him  for.  The  in 
dictment  against  your  friend  is  that  he  interfered 
when  it  wasn't  his  business." 

"But  it  was  his  business.     Don't  you  know  he's 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  293 

sheriff?  He  had  to  do  it."  Melissy  turned  to  the 
outlaw  impetuously. 

"So.  And  I  have  to  play  my  hand  out,  too.  It 
wipes  out  Mr.  Flatray.  Sorry,  but  business  is  busi 
ness." 

"But — but — • — "  Melissy  grew  pale  as  the  icy 
fear  gripped  her  heart  that  the  man  meant  to  go 
on  with  the  crime.  "Don't  you  see?  He's  the 
sheriff?" 

"And  I  never  did  love  sheriffs,"  drawled  Mac- 
Queen. 

The  girl  repeated  herself  helplessly.  "It  was  his 
sworn  duty.  That  was  how  he  looked  at  it." 

A  ghost  of  an  ironic  smile*  flitted  across  the  face 
of  the  outlaw  chief.  "Rosario's  sworn  duty  is  to 
avenge  her  son's  death.  That  is  how  she  looks  at  it. 
The  rest  of  us  swore  the  oath  with  her." 

"But  Lieutenant  O'Connor  had  the  law  back  of 
him.  This  is  murder!" 

"Not  at' all.  It  is  the  law  of  the  valley— a  life 
for  a  life." 

"But Oh,  no— no— no !" 

"Yes." 

The  finality  of  it  appalled  her.  She  felt  as  if  she 
were  butting  her  head  against  a  stone  wall.  She 
knew  that  argument  and  entreaty  were  of  no  avail, 
yet  she  desperately  besought  first  one  and  then  an 
other  of  them  to  save  the  prisoner.  Each  in  turn 
shook  his  head.  She  could  see  that  none  of  them, 
save  Rosario,  bore  him  a  grudge ;  yet  none  would 


294  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

move  to  break  the  valley  oath.  At  the  last,  she  was 
through  with  her  promises  and  her  prayers.  She 
had  spent  them  all,  and  had  come  up  against  the 
wall  of  blank  despair. 

Then  Jack's  grave  smile  thanked  her.  "You've 
done  what  you  could,  Melissy." 

She  clung  to  him  wildly.  "Oh,  no — no !  I  can't 
let  you  go,  Jack.  I  can't.  I  can't." 

"I  reckon  it's  got  to  be,  dear,"  he  told  her  gently. 

But  her  breaking  heart  could  not  stand  that. 
There  must  somehow  be  a  way  to  save  him.  She 
cast  about  desperately  for  one,  and  had  not  found 
it  when  she  begged  the  outlaw  chief  to  see  her 
alone. 

"No  use."     He  shook  his  head. 

"But  just  for  five  minutes!  That  can't  do  any 
harm,  can  it?" 

"And  no  good,  either." 

"Yet  I  ask  it.  You  might  do  that  much  for 
me,"  she  pleaded. 

Her  despair  had  moved  him;  for  he  was  human, 
after  all.  That  he  was  troubled  about  it  annoyed 
him  a  good  deal.  Her  arrival  on  the  scene  had 
made  things  unpleasant  for  everybody.  Ungra 
ciously  he  assented,  as  the  easiest  way  out  of  the 
difficulty. 

The  two  moved  off  to  the  corral.  It  was  perhaps 
thirty  yards  distant,  and  they  reached  it  before 
either  of  them  spoke.  She  was  the  first  to  break 
the  silence. 


"OH,  NO— NO  I    i  CAN'T  LET  YOU  oo,  JACK,    i  CAN'T,    i  CAN'T.' 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  295 

"You  won't  do  this  dreadful  thing — surely,  you 
won't  do  it" 

"No  use  saying  another  word  about  it.  I  told 
you  that,"  he  answered  doggedly. 

"But Oh,  don't  you  see?  It's  one  of  those 

things  no  white  man  can  do.  Once  it's  done,  you 
have  put  the  bars  up  against  decency  for  the  rest 
of  your  life." 

"I  reckon  I'll  have  to  risk  that — and  down  in 
your  heart  you  don't  believe  it,  because  you  think 
Fve  had  the  bars  up  for  years." 

She  had  come  to  an  impasse  already.  She  tried 
another  turn.  "And  you  said  you  cared  for  me! 
Yet  you  are  willing  to  make  me  unhappy  for  the 
rest  of  my  life." 

"Why,  no!  I'm  willing  to  make  you  happy. 
There's  fish  in  the  sea  just  as  good  as  any  that 
ever  were  caught,"  he  smirked. 

"But  it  would  help  you  to  free  him.  Don't  you 
see  ?  It's  your  chance.  You  can  begin  again,  now. 
You  can  make  him  your  friend." 

His  eyes  were  hard  and  grim.  "I  don't  want 
him  for  a  friend,  and  you're  dead  wrong  if  you 
think  I  could  make  this  a  lever  to  square  myself 
with  the  law.  I  couldn't.  He  wouldn't  let  me,  for 
one  thing — -he  isn't  that  kind." 

"And  you  said  you  cared  for  me!"  she  repeated 
helplessly,  wringing  her  hands  in  her  despair.  "But 
at  the  first  chance  you  fail  me." 

"Can't  you  see  it  isn't  a  personaj  matter?    I've 


296  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

got  nothing  against  him — nothing  to  speak  of.  I'd 
give  him  to  you,  if  I  could.  But  it's  not  my  say- 
so.  The  thing  is  out  of  my  hands." 

"You  could  save  him,  if  you  set  yourself  to." 

"Sure,  I  could — if  I  would  pay  the  price.  But 
I  won't  pay." 

"That's  it.  You  would  have  to  give  Rosario 
something — make  some  concession,"  she  said 
eagerly. 

"And  I'm  not  willing  to  pay  the  price,"  he  told 
her.  "His  life's  forfeit.  Hasn't  he  been  hunting 
us  for  a  week?" 

"Let  me  pay  it,"  she  cried.  "I  have  money  in 
my  own  right — seven  thousand  dollars.  I'll  give  it 
all  to  save  him." 

He  shook  his  head.  "No  use.  We've  turned 
down  a  big  offer  from  West.  Your  seven  thousand 
isn't  a  drop  in  the  bucket." 

She  beat  her  hands  together  wildly.  "There 
must  be  some  way  to  save  him." 

The  outlaw  was  looking  at  her  with  narrowed 
eyes.  He  saw  a  way,  and  was  working  it  out  in 
his  mind.  "You're  willing  to  pay,  are  you?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes— yes!    All  I  have." 

He  put  his  arms  akimbo  on  the  corral  fence,  and 
looked  long  at  her.  "Suppose  the  price  can't  be 
paid  in  money,  Miss  Lee." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Money  isn't  the  only  thing  in  this  world.     There 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  297 

are  lots  of  things  it  won't  buy  that  other  things 
will,"  he  said  slowly. 

She  groped  for  his  meaning,  her  wide  eyes  fixed 
on  his,  and  still  did  not  find  it.  "Be  plainer,  please. 
What  can  I  do  to  save  him?" 

"You  might  marry  me." 

"Never!" 

"Just  as  you  say.  You  were  looking  for  a  way, 
and  I  suggested  one.  Anyhow,  you're  mine." 

"I  won't  do  it !" 

"You  wanted  me  to  pay  the  price;  but  you  don't 
want  to  pay  yourself." 

"I  couldn't  do  it.  It  would  be  horrible!"  But 
she  knew  she  could  and  must. 

"Why  couldn't  you  ?  I'm  ready  to  cut  loose  from 
this  way  of  living.  When  I  pull  off  this  one  big 
thing,  I'll  quit.  We'll  go  somewhere  and  begin  life 
again.  You  said  I  could.  Well,  I  will.  You'll  help 
me  to  keep  straight.  It  won't  be  only  his  life  you 
are  saving.  It  will  be  mine,  too." 

"No — I  don't  love  you !  How  could  a  girl  marry 
a  man  she  didn't  care  for  and  didn't  respect?" 

"I'll  make  you  do  both  before  long.  I'm  the 
kind  of  man  women  love." 

"You're  the  kind  I  hate,"  she  flashed  bitterly. 

"I'll  risk  your  hate,  my  dear,"  he  laughed  easily. 

She  did  not  look  at  him.  Her  eyes  were  on  the 
horizon  line,  where  sky  and  pine  tops  met.  He  knew 
that  she  was  fighting  it  out  to  a  decision,  and  he  did 
not  speak  again. 


298  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

After  all,  she  was  only  a  girl.  Right  and  wrong 
were  inextricably  mixed  in  her  mind.  It  was  not 
right  to  marry  this  man.  It  was  not  right  to  let 
the  sheriff  die  while  she  could  save  him.  She  was 
generous  to  the  core.  But  there  was  something 
deeper  than  generosity.  Her  banked  love  for  Flat- 
ray  flooded  her  in  a  great  cry  of  protest  against  his 
death.  She  loved  him.  She  loved  him.  Much  as 
she  detested  this  man,  revolting  as  she  found  the 
thought  of  being  linked  to  him,  the  impulse  to  sac 
rifice  herself  was  the  stronger  feeling  of  the  two. 
Deep  in  her  heart  she  knew  that  she  could  not  let 
Jack  go  to  his  death  so  long  as  it  was  possible  to 
prevent  it. 

Her  grave  eyes  came  back  to  MacQueen.  "I'll 
have  to  tell  you  one  thing — I'll  hate  you  worse  than 
ever  after  this.  Don't  think  I'll  ever  change  my 
mind  about  that.  I  won't." 

He  twirled  his  little  mustache  complacently. 

"I'll  have  to  risk  that,  as  I  said." 

"You'll  take  me  to  Mesa  to-day.  As  soon  as  we 
get  there  a  justice  of  the  peace  will  marry  us.  From 
his  house  we'll  go  directly  to  father's.  You  won't 
lie  to  me." 

"No.     I'll  play  out  the  game  square,  if  you  do." 

"And  after  we're  married,  what  then?" 

"You  may  stay  at  home  until  I  get  this  ransom 
business  settled.  Then  we'll  go  to  Sonora," 

"How  do  you  know  I'll  go?" 

"I'll  trust  you." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 299 

"Then  it's  a  bargain." 

Without  another  word,  they  turned  back  to  re 
join  the  group  by  the  cabin.  Before  they  had  gone 
a  dozen  steps  she  stopped. 

"What  about  Mr.  Flatray?  You  will  free  him, 
of  course." 

"Yes.  I'll  take  him  right  out  due  north  of  here, 
about  four  miles.  He'll  be  blindfolded.  There 
we'll  leave  him,  with  instructions  how  to  reach 
Mesa. 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  she  announced  promptly. 

"What  for?" 

"To  make  sure  that  you  do  let  him  go — alive." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "All  right.  I  told 
you  I  was  going  to  play  fair.  I  haven't  many  good 
points,  but  that  is  one  of  them.  I  don't  give  my 
word  and  then  break  it." 

"Still,  I'll  go." 

He  laughed  angrily.     "That's  your  privilege." 

She  turned  on  him  passionately.  "You've  got  no 
right  to  resent  it,  though  I  don't  care  a  jackstraw 
whether  you  do  or  not.  I'm  not  going  into  this  be 
cause  I  want  to,  but  to  save  this  man  from  the  den 
of  wolves  into  which  he  has  fallen.  If  you  knew 
how  I  despise  and  hate  you,  how  my  whole  soul 
loathes  you,  maybe  you  wouldn't  be  so  eager  to  go 
on  with  it!  You'll  get  nothing  out  of  this  but  the 
pleasure  of  torturing  a  girl  who  can't  defend  her 
self." 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  he  answered  doggedly. 
•-*•  •,-•• 


CHAPTER   X 

THE  PRICE 

MAcQUEEN  lost  no  time  in  announcing  his 
new  program. 

"Boys,  the  hanging's  off.  I've  decided 
to  accept  West's  offer  for  Flatray's  life.  It's  too 
good  to  turn  down." 

'That's  what  I  told  you  all  the  time,"  growled 
Buck. 

"Well,  I'm  telling  you  now.  The  money  will  be 
divided  equally  among  you,  except  that  Rosario  will 
get  my  share  as  well  as  hers." 

Rosario  Chaves  broke  into  fierce  protests.  Find 
ing  these  unheeded,  she  cursed  the  outlaws  furiously 
and  threatened  vengeance  upon  them.  She  did  not 
want  money;  she  wanted  this  man's  life.  The  men 
accepted  this  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  paid  little 
attention  to  the  ravings  of  the  old  woman. 

At  the  first  news  of  his  reprieve,  Jack  saw  things 
through  a  haze  for  a  moment.  But  he  neither  brok^ 
down  nor  showed  undue  exultation. 

His  first  thought  was  of  relief,  of  profound  conv 
fort;  his  next  of  wonder  and  suspicion.  How  un 

300 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  301 

der  heaven  had  Melissy  won  his  life  for  him?  He 
looked  quickly  at  her,  but  the  eyes  of  the  girl  did 
not  meet  his. 

"Melissy."  Flatray  spoke  very  gently,  but  some 
thing  in  the  way  he  spoke  compelled  the  young 
woman  to  meet  his  eyes. 

Almost  instantly  the  long  lashes  went  down  to 
her  pale  cheeks  again. 

MacQueen  cut  in  suavely:  "I  reckon  this  is  the 
time  for  announcements.  Boys,  Miss  Lee  has  prom 
ised  to  marry  me." 

Before  the  stir  which  this  produced  had  died 
away,  Flatray  flashed  a  question :  "In  exchange  for 
my  life?" 

The  chief  of  the  outlaws  looked  at  him  with  in 
solence  smoldering  in  his  black  eyes.  "Now,  I  won 
der  when  you  ever  will  learn  to  mind  your  own 
business,  sheriff!  Nobody  invited  you  to  sit  into 
this  game." 

"This  is  my  business.  I  make  it  mine.  Give  me 
a  straight  answer,  Melissy.  Am  I  right?  Is  it  for 
my  life?" 

"Yes."  Her  voice  was  so  low  he  could  hardly 
hear  it. 

"Then  I  won't  have  it!  The  thing  is  infamous. 
I  can't  hide  behind  the  skirts  of  a  girl,  least  of  all 
you,  I  can  die,  but,  by  God,  I'll  keep  my  self- 
respect." 

"It's  all  arranged,"  Melissy  answered  in  a 
whisper. 


302  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Flatray  laughed  harshly.  "I  guess  not.  You 
can't  pay  my  debts  by  giving  yourself  to  life-long 
misery." 

"You're  right  pessimistic,  sheriff,"  sneered  Mac- 
Queen. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?  I  won't  have  it. 
I  won't  have  it."  The  sheriff's  voice  was  rough 
and  hoarse.  "I'd  rather  die  fifty  times." 

"It's  not  up  to  you  to  choose,  as  it  happens,"  the 
leader  of  the  outlaws  suggested  suavely. 

"You  villain!  You  damned  white-livered  cow 
ard  !"  The  look  of  the  young  sheriff  scorched. 

"Speaks  right  out  in  meeting,  don't  he?"  grinned 
Lane. 

"I  know  what  he  is,  Jack,"  Melissy  cried.  "And 
he  knows  I  think  he's  the  lowest  thing  that  crawls. 
But  I've  got  to  save  you.  Don't  you  see,  I've  got 
to  do  it?" 

"No,  I  don't  see  it,"  Flatray  answered  hotly. 
"I  can  take  what's  coming  to  me,  can't  I?  But  if 
you  save  my  life  that  way  you  make  me  as  low  a 
thing  as  he  is.  I  say  I'll  not  have  it." 

Melissy  could  stand  it  no  longer.  She  began  to 
sob.  "I — I—Oh,  Jack,  I've  got  to  do  it.  Don't 
you  see?  Don't  you  see?  It  won't  make  any  dif 
ference  with  me  if  I  don't.  No  difference — except 
that  you'll  be — dead." 

She  was  in  his  embrace,  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  whispering  the  horrible  truth  in  his  ear 
brokenly.  And  as  he  felt  her  dear  young  fragrance 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  303 

of  hair  in  his  nostrils,  the  warm,  soft  litheness  of 
her  body  against  his,  the  rage  and  terror  in  him 
flooded  his  veins.  Could  such  things  be?  Was  it 
possible  a  man  like  that  could  live  ?  Not  if  he  could 
help  it. 

Gently  he  unfastened  her  arms  from  his  neck. 
MacQueen  was  standing  a  dozen  feet  away,  his 
hands  behind  his  back  and  his  legs  wide  apart.  As 
Flatray  swung  around  the  outlaw  read  a  warning 
in  the  blazing  eyes.  Just  as  Jack  tore  loose  from 
his  guards  MacQueen  reached  for  his  revolver. 

The  gun  flashed.  A  red  hot  blaze  scorched 
through  Jack's  arm.  Next  instant  MacQueen  lay 
flat  on  his  back,  the  sheriff's  fingers  tight  around 
his  throat.  If  he  could  have  had  five  seconds  more 
the  man's  neck  would  have  been  broken.  But  they 
dragged  him  away,  fighting  like  a  wild  cat.  They 
flung  him  down  and  tied  his  hands  behind  him. 

Melissy  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  bleeding  arm, 
his  torn  and  dusty  face,  the  appalling  ferocity  of 
the  men  who  were  hammering  him  into  the  ground. 
She  took  a  step  forward  blindly.  The  mountains 
in  front  of  her  tilted  into  the  sky.  She  moved  for 
ward  another  step,  then  stumbled  and  went  down, 
She  had  fainted. 

"Just  as  well,"  MacQueen  nodded.  "Here,  Ro- 
sario,  look  after  the  young  lady.  Lift  Flatray  to 
a  horse,  boys,  after  you've  blindfolded  him.  Good 
enough.  Oh,  and  one  thing  more,  Flatray.  You're 
covered  by  a  rifle.  If  you  lift  a  hand  to  slip  that 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


handkerchief  from  your  eyes,  you're  giving  the  sig 
nal  for  Jeff  to  turn  loose  at  you.  We're  going  to 
take  you  away,  but  we  don't  aim  to  let  you  out  of 
the  Cache  for  a  few  days  yet." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

MacQueen  jeered  at  his  prisoner  openly.  "I 
mean,  Mr.  Sheriff,  that  you'll  stay  with  us  till  the 
girl  does  as  she  has  promised.  Understand?" 

"I  think  so,  you  hellhound.  You're  going  to  hold 
me  against  her  so  that  she  can't  change  her  mind." 

"Exactly.  So  that  she  can't  rue  back.  You've 
guessed  it" 

They  rode  for  hours,  but  in  what  direction  it  was 
impossible  for  Flatray  to  guess.  He  could  tell  when 
they  were  ascending,  when  dropping  down  hill,  but 
in  a  country  so  rugged  this  meant  nothing. 

When  at  last  he  dismounted  and  the  kerchief  was 
taken  from  his  eyes  he  found  himself  in  a  little 
pocket  of  the  hills  in  front  of  an  old  log  cabin. 
Jeff  stayed  with  him.  The  others  rode  away.  But 
not  till  they  had  him  safely  tied  to  a  heavy  table 
leg  within  the  hut. 


CHAPTER   XI 

SQUIRE   LATIMER  TAKES  A  HAND 

YOU'RE  to  make  ready  for  a  trip  to  town, 
senorita." 
"When?1' 

"At  once,"  Rosario  answered.  "By  orders  9f 
Senor  MacQueen." 

"Then  he  is  back  "  the  girl  flashed. 

"Just  back." 

"Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him — immediately." 

"I  am  to  take  you  to  him  as  soon  as  you  are 
ready  to  ride." 

"Oh,  very  well." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  young-  woman  was 
ready.  Rosario  led  her  to  the  cabin  in  front  of 
which  she  had  seen  the  old  Indian  squaw.  In  it 
were  seated  Simon  West  and  Black  MacQueen. 
Both  of  them  rose  at  her  entrance. 

"Please  take  a  chair,  Miss  Lee.     We  have  some 
business  to  talk  over,"  the  outlaw  suggested. 
,    Melissy  looked  straight  at  him,  her  lips  shut  tight. 
"What  have  you  done  with  Jack  Flatray  ?"  she  pres 
ently  demanded. 

305 


306  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"Left  him  to  find  his  way  back  to  his  friends." 

"You  didn't  hurt  him     .     .     .     any  more?" 

"No." 

"And  you  left  him  alone,  wounded  as  he  was." 

"We  fixed  up  his  wound,"  lied  MacQueen. 

"Was  it  very  bad?" 

"A  scratch.     I  had  to  do  it." 

"You  needn't  apologize  to  me." 

"I'm  not  apologizing,  you  little  wild-cat." 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?  Why  did  you 
send  for  me?" 

"We're  going  to  Mesa  to  see  a  parson.  But  be 
fore  we  start  there's  some  business  to  fix  up.  Mr. 
West  and  I  will  need  your  help  to  fix  up  the  nego 
tiations  for  his  release." 

"My  help!"  She  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 
"How  can  I  help?" 

"I've  laid  my  demands  before  his  friends.  They'll 
come  through  with  the  money,  sure.  But  I  want 
them  to  understand  the  conditions  right  plainly,  so 
there  won't  be  any  mistake.  What  they  have  got 
to  get  soaked  into  their  heads  is  that,  if  they  do 
make  any  mistakes,  they  will  not  see  Simon  West 
again  alive.  You  put  that  up  to  them  strong." 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  your  agent  in  robbing 
people  of  their  money!"  she  told  him  swiftly. 

"You  don't  understand.  Mr.  West  wants  you 
to  do  it.  He  wants  you  to  explain  the  facts  to  his 
friends,  so  they  won't  act  rash  and  get  off  wrong 
foot  first." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS £07 

"Oh!     If  Mr.  West  wishes  it,"  she  conceded. 

"I  do  wish  it,"  the  great  man  added. 

Though  his  face  and  hands  were  still  stained 
with  the  dye  that  had  been  used  on  them,  the  rail 
road  builder  was  now  dressed  in  his  own  clothes. 
The  girl  thought  that  he  looked  haggard  and  anx 
ious,  and  she  was  sure  that  her  presence  brought 
him  relief.  In  his  own  way  he  was  an  indomitable 
fighter,  but  his  experience  had  not  included  any 
thing  of  this  nature. 

Jack  Flatray  could  look  at  death  level-eyed,  and 
with  an  even  pulse,  because  for  him  it  was  all  in 
the  day's  work ;  but  the  prospect  of  it  shook  West's 
high-strung  nerves.  Nevertheless,  he  took  com 
mand  of  the  explanations,  because  it  had  been  his 
custom  for  years  to  lead. 

MacOueen,  his  sardonic  smile  in  play,  sat  back 
and  let  West  do  most  of  the  talking.  Both  men 
were  working  for  the  same  end — to  get  the  ran 
som  paid  as  soon  as  possible — and  the  multimillion 
aire  released;  and  the  outlaw  realized  that  Melissy 
would  cooperate  the  more  heartily  if  she  felt  she 
were  working  for  West  and  not  for  himself. 

"This  is  Tuesday,  Miss  Lee.  You  will  reach 
Mesa  some  time  to-night.  My  friends  ought  to  be 
on  the  ground  already.  I  want  you  and  your  father 
to  get  in  touch  with  them  right  away,  and  arrange 
the  details  along  the  line  laid  down  by  Mr.  Mac- 
Queen.  In  case  they  agree  to  everything  and  un 
derstand  fully,  have  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flying 


808  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

from  your  house  all  day  to-morrow  as  a  signal. 
Don't  on  any  account  omit  this — because,  if  you  do, 
my  captors  will  have  to  hold  me  longer,  pending 
further  negotiations.  I  have  written  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Lucas,  exonerating  you  completely,  Miss  Lee;  and 
I  have  ordered  him  to  comply  with  all  these  de 
mands  without  parley." 

"Our  proposition  seems  to  Mr.  West  very  rea 
sonable  and  fair,"  grinned  MacQueen  impishly, 
paring  his  finger  nails. 

"At  any  rate,  I  think  that  my  life  is  worth  to 
this  country  a  good  deal  more  than  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars,"  West  corrected. 

"Besides  being  worth  something  to  Simon  West/' 
the  outlaw  added  carelessly. 

West  plunged  into  the  details  of  delivering  the 
money.  Once  or  twice  the  other  man  corrected  him 
or  amplified  some  statement.  In  order  that  there 
could  be  no  mistake,  a  map  of  Sweetwater  Canon 
was  handed  to  Melissy  to  be  used  by  the  man  who 
would  bring  the  money  to  the  rendezvous  at  the 
Devil's  Causeway. 

When  it  came  to  saying  good-bye,  the  old  man 
could  scarce  make  up  his  mind  to  release  the  girl's 
hand.  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  the  visible 
sign  of  his  safety,  and  that  with  her  departure  went 
a  safeguard  from  these  desperate  men.  He  could 
not  forget  that  she  had  saved  the  life  of  the  sheriff, 
even  though  he  did  not  know  what  sacrifice  she 
had  made  so  to  do. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  309 

"I  know  you'll  do  your  best  for  me,"  he  said,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes.  "Make  Lucas  see  this  thing  right. 
Don't  let  any  fool  detectives  bunco  him  into  refus 
ing  to  pay  the  ransom.  Put  it  to  him  as  strongly 
as  you  can,  that  it  will  be  either  my  life  or  the 
money.  I  have  ordered  him  to  pay  it,  and  I  want 
it  paid." 

Melissy  nodded.  "I'll  tell  him  how  it  is,  Mr. 
West.  I  know  it  will  be  all  right.  By  Thursday 
afternoon  we  shall  have  you  with  us  to  dinner  again. 
Trust  us." 

"I  do."  He  lowered  his  voice  and  glanced  at 
MacOueen,  who  had  been  called  aside  to  speak  to 
one  of  his  men.  "And  I'm  glad  you're  going  away 
from  here.  This  is  no  place  for  you." 

"It  isn't  quite  the  place  for  you,  either,"  she  an 
swered,  with  a  faint,  joyless  smile. 

They  started  an  hour  before  midday.  Rosario 
had  packed  a  lunch  for  both  of  them  in  MacQueen's 
saddlebags,  for  it  was  the  intention  of  the  latter  to 
avoid  ranches  and  traveled  trails  on  the  way  down. 
He  believed  that  the  girl  would  go  through  with 
what  she  had  pledged  herself  to  do,  but  he  did  not 
mean  to  take  chances  of  a  rescue. 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  they  stopped  for 
lunch  at  Round-up  Spring — a  water  hole  which  had 
not  dried  up  in  a  dozen  years.  It  was  a  somber 
meal.  Melissy's  spirits  had  been  sinking  lower  and 
lower  with  every  mile  that  brought  her  nearer  the 
destinj  into  which  this  man  was  forcing  her.  Food 


810 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

choked  her,  and  she  ate  but  little.  Occasionally, 
with  staring  eyes,  she  would  fall  into  a  reverief 
from  which  his  least  word  would  startle  her  to  a 
shiver  of  apprehension.  This  she  always  controlled 
after  the  first  instinctive  shudder. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  girl  ?  I'm  not  going 
to  hurt  you  any.  I  never  hit  a  woman  in  my  life," 
the  man  said  once  roughly. 

"Perhaps  you  may,  after  you're  married.  It's 
usually  one's  wife  one  beats.  Don't  be  discouraged. 
You'll  have  the  experience  yet,"  she  retorted,  but 
without  much  spirit. 

"To  hear  you  tell  it,  I'm  a  devil  through  and 
through!  It's  that  kind  of  talk  that  drives  a  man 
to  drink,"  he  flung  out  angrily. 

"And  to  wife  beating.  Of  course,  I'm  not  your 
chattel  yet,  because  the  ceremony  hasn't  been  read ; 
but  if  you  would  like  to  anticipate  a  few  hours  and 
beat  me,  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  reason  you 
shouldn't." 

"Gad !    How  you  hate  me !" 

Her  inveteracy  discouraged  him.  His  good  looks, 
his  debonair  manner,  the  magnetic  charm  he  knew 
how  to  exert — these,  which  had  availed  him  with 
other  women,  did  not  seem  to  reach  her  at  all.  She 
really  gave  him  no  chance  to  prove  himself.  He 
was  ready  to  be  grave  or  gay — to  be  a  light-hearted 
boy  or  a  blase  man  of  the  world — to  adopt  any  role 
that  would  suit  her.  But  how  could  one  play  up 
effectively  to  a  chill  silence  which  took  no  note  of 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  311 

him,  to  a  depression  of  the  soul  which  would  not 
let  itself  be  lifted?  He  felt  that  she  was  living  up 
to  the  barest  letter  of  the  law  in  fulfilling  their  con 
tract,  and  because  of  it  he  steeled  himself  against 
her  sufferings. 

There  was  one  moment  of  their  ride  when  she 
stood  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation  and  showed  again 
the  sparkle  of  eager  life.  MacQueen  had  resaddled 
after  their  luncheon,  and  they  were  climbing  a  long 
sidehill  that  looked  over  a  dry  valley.  With  a  ges 
ture,  the  outlaw  checked  her  horse. 

"Look!" 

Some  quarter  of  a  mile  from  them  two  men  were 
riding  up  a  wash  that  ran  through  the  valley.  The 
mesquite  and  the  cactus  were  thick,  and  it  was  for 
only  an  occasional  moment  that  they  could  be  seen. 
Black  and  the  girl  were  screened  from  view  by  a 
live  oak  in  front  of  them,  so  that  there  was  no  dan 
ger  of  being  observed.  The  outlaw  got  out  his  field 
glasses  and  watched  the  men  intently. 

Melissy  could  not  contain  the  question  that  trem 
bled  on  her  lips:  "Do  you  know  them?^ 

"I  reckon  not." 

"Perhaps " 

"Well!" 

"May  I  look— please?" 

He  handed  her  the  glasses.  She  had  to  wait  for 
the  riders  to  reappear,  but  when  they  did  she  gav« 
a  little  cry. 

"It's  Mr.  Bellamy!" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"Oh,  is  it?" 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  ready  to  crush  in  her 
throat  any  call  she  might  utter  for  help.  But  he 
soon  saw  that  she  had  no  intention  of  making  her 
presence  known.  Her  eyes  were  glued  to  the  glasses. 
As  long  as  the  men  were  in  sight  she  focused  her 
gaze  on  them  ravenously.  At  last  a  bend  in  the 
dry  river  bed  hid  them  from  view.  She  lowered  the 
binoculars  with  a  sigh. 

"Lucky  they  didn't  see  us,"  he  said,  with  his  easy, 
sinister  laugh.  "Lucky  for  them." 

She  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  uncased 
his  rifle  and  was  holding  it  across  the  saddle-tree. 

Night  slipped  silently  down  from  the  hills  —  the 
soft,  cool,  velvet  night  of  the  Arizona  uplands.  The 
girl  drooped  in  the  saddle  from  sheer  exhaustion. 
The  past  few  days  had  been  hard  ones,  and  last 
night  she  had  lost  most  of  her  sleep.  She  had  rid 
den  far  on  rough  trails,  had  been  subjected  to  a 
stress  of  emotion  to  which  her  placid  maiden  life 
had  been  unused.  But  she  made  no  complaint.  It 
was  part  of  the  creed  she  had  unconsciously  learned 
from  her  father  to  game  out  whatever  had  to  be 
endured. 

The  outlaw,  though  he  saw  her  fatigue,  would 
not  heed  it.  She  had  chosen  to  set  herself  apart 
from  him.  Let  her  ask  him  to  stop  and  rest,  if  she 
wanted  to.  It  would  do  her  pride  good  to  be  hum 
bled.  Yet  in  his  heart  he  admired  her  the  more, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  313 

because  she  asked  no  favors  of  him  and  forbore  the 
womanish  appeal  of  tears. 

His  watch  showed  eleven  o'clock  by  the  moon 
when  the  lights  of  Mesa  glimmered  in  the  valley 
below. 

"We'll  be  in  now  in  half  an  hour,"  he  said. 

She  had  no  comment  to  make,  and  silence  fell 
between  them  again  until  they  reached  the  outskirts 
of  the  town. 

"We'll  get  off  here  and  walk  in,"  he  ordered; 
and,  after  she  had  dismounted,  he  picketed  the 
horses  close  to  the  road.  "You  can  send  for  yours 
in  the  mornin'.  Mine  will  be  in  the  livery  barn 
by  that  time." 

The  streets  were  practically  deserted  in  the  resi 
dential  part  of  the  town.  Only  one  man  they  saw, 
and  at  his  approach  MacQueen  drew  Melissy  behind 
a  large  lilac  bush. 

As  the  man  drew  near  the  outlaw's  hand  tight 
ened  on  the  shoulder  of  the  girl.  For  the  man  was 
her  father — dusty,  hollow-eyed,  and  haggard.  The 
two  crouching  behind  the  lilacs  knew  that  this  iron 
man  was  broken  by  his  fears  for  his  only  child,  the 
girl  who  was  the  apple  of  his  eye. 

Not  until  he  was  out  of  hearing  did  Melissy  open 
her  lips  to  the  stifled  cry  she  had  suppressed.  Her 
arms  went  out  to  him,  and  the  tears  rolled  down 
her  cheeks.  For  herself  she  had  not  let  herself 
break  down,  but  for  her  father's  grief  her  heart 
was  like  water. 


814  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"All  right.  Don't  break  down  now.  You'll  be 
with  him  inside  of  half  an  hour,"  the  outlaw  told 
her  gruffly. 

They  stopped  at  a  house  not  much  farther  down 
the  street,  and  he  rang  the  bell.  It  took  a  second 
ring  to  bring  a  head  out  of  the  open  window  up 
stairs. 

"Well?"  a  sleepy  voice  demanded. 

"Is  this  Sauire  Latimer?" 

"Yes." 

"Come  down.    We  want  to  get  married/' 

"Then  why  can't  you  come  at  a  reasonable  hour? 
^-consarn  it!" 

"Never  mind  that.  There's  a  good  fee  in  it. 
Hurry  up!" 

Presently  the  door  opened.  "Come  in.  You  can 
wait  in  the  hall  till  I  get  a  light." 

"No — I  don't  want  a  light.  We'll  step  into  this 
yoom,  and  be  married  at  once,"  MacQueen  told  him 
crisply. 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I'm  not  marrying- 
folks  that  can't  be  looked  at." 

"You'll  marry  us,  and  at  once.  I'm  Black  Mac- 
Queen!" 

It  was  ludicrous  to  see  how  the  justice  of  the 
peace  fell  back  in  terror  before  the  redoubtable  bad 
man  of  the  hills. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  a  light  is  a  legal  neces 
sity;  but  we  got  to  have  witnesses." 

"Have  you  any  in  the  house?" 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  315 

"My  daughter  and  a  girl  friend  of  hers  are  sleep 
ing  upstairs.  I'll  call  them,  Mr.  Black — er — I 
mean  Mr.  MacQueen." 

The  outlaw  went  with  the  squire  to  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  whence  Latimer  wakened  the  girls  and 
told  them  to  dress  at  once,  as  quickly  as  possible. 
A  few  minutes  later  they  came  down — towsled,  eyes 
heavy  with  sleep,  giggling  at  each  other  in  girlish 
fashion.  But  when  they  knew  whose  marriage  they 
were  witnessing,  giggles  and  sleep  fled  together. 

They  were  due  for  another  surprise  later.  Mac- 
Queen  and  his  bride  were  standing  in  the  heavy 
shadows,  so  that  both  bulked  vaguely  in  mere  out 
line.  Hitherto,  Melissy  had  not  spoken  a  word. 
The  time  came  when  it  was  necessary  for  the  jus 
tice  to  know  the  name  of  the  girl  whom  he  was 
marrying.  Her  answer  came  at  once,  in  a  low, 
scarcely  audible  voice : 

"Melissy  Lee." 

An  electric  shock  could  scarce  Have  startled  them 
more.  Of  all  the  girls  in  Mesa  none  was  so  proud 
as  Melissy  Lee,  none  had  been  so  far  above  criti 
cism,  such  a  queen  in  the  frontier  town.  She  had 
spent  a  year  in  school  at  Denver;  she  had  always 
been  a  social  leader.  While  she  had  always  been 
friendly  to  the  other  girls,  they  had  looked  upon 
her  with  a  touch  of  awe.  She  had  all  the  things 
they  craved,  from  beauty  to  money.  And  now  she 
was  marrying  at  midnight,  in  the  dark,  the  most 
notorious  bad  man  of  Arizona! 


316  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Here  was  a  wonder  of  wonders  to  tell  the  other 
girls  to-morrow.  The  only  pity  was  that  they  could 
not  see  her  face — and  his.  They  had  heard  that 
he  was  handsome.  No  doubt  that  accounted  for  it. 
And  what  could  be  more  romantic  than  a  love  match 
with  such  a  fascinating  villain?  Probably  he  had 
stormed  her  heart  irresistibly. 

The  service  proceeded.  The  responses  of  the 
man  came  clearly  and  triumphantly,  those  of  the 
girl  low  but  distinctly.  It  was  the  custom  of  the 
justice  to  join  the  hands  of  the  parties  he  was  marry 
ing  ;  but  when  he  moved  to  do  so  this  girl  put  both 
of  hers  quickly  behind  her.  It  was  his  custom  also 
to  kiss  the  bride  after  pronouncing  them  man  and 
wife;  but  he  omitted  this,  too,  on  the  present  occa 
sion.  Nor  did  the  groom  kiss  her. 

The  voice  of  the  justice  died  away.  They  stood 
before  him  man  and  wife.  The  witnesses  craned 
forward  to  see  the  outlaw  embrace  his  bride.  In 
stead,  he  reached  into  his  pocket  and  handed  Lati- 
mer  a  bill.  The  denomination  of  it  was  one  hun 
dred  dollars,  but  the  justice  did  not  discover  that 
until  later. 

"I  reckon  that  squares  us,"  the  bad  man  said  un- 
sentimentally.  "Now,  all  of  you  back  to  bed." 

MacOueen  and  his  bride  passed  out  into  the  night. 
The  girls  noticed  that  she  did  not  take  his  arm; 
that  she  even  drew  back,  as  if  to  avoid  touching 
him  as  they  crossed  the  threshold. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  317 

Not  until  they  reached  the  gate  of  her  father's 
house  did  MacOueen  speak. 

"I'm  not  all  coyote,  girl.  I'll  give  you  the  three 
days  I  promised  you.  After  that  you'll  join  me 
wherever  I  say." 

"Yes,"  she  answered  without  spirit. 

"You'll  stand  pat  to  our  agreement.  When  they 
try  to  talk  you  out  of  it  you  won't  give  in  ?" 

'"Xo." 

She  was  deadly  weary,  could  scarce  hold  up  her 
head. 

"If  you  lie  to  me  I'll  take  it  out  on  your  folks. 
Don't  forget  that  Jack  Flatray  will  have  to  pay  if 
you  double-cross  me." 

"No." 

"He'll  have  to  pay  in  full." 

"You  mean  you'll  capture  him  again." 

"I  mean  we  won't  have  to  do  that.  We  haven't 
turned  him  loose  yet." 

"Then  you  lied  to  me  ?"  She  stared  at  him  with 
wide  open  eyes  of  horror. 

"I  had  to  keep  him  to  make  sure  of  you." 

Her  groan  touched  his  vanity,  or  was  it  perhaps 
his  pity? 

"I'm  not  going  to  hurt  him — if  you  play  fair. 
1  tell  you  I'm  no  cur.  Help  me,  girl,  and  I'll  quit 
this  hell  raising  and  live  decent." 

She  laughed  without  joy,  bitterly. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  think,"  he  continued.  "I 
can't  blame  you.  But  what  do  you  know  about  my 


318  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

life?  What  do  you  know  about  what  I've  had  to 
fight  against?  All  my  life  there  has  been  some  devil 
in  me,  strangling  all  the  good.  There  has  been  no 
body  to  give  me  a  helping  hand — none  to  hold  me 
back.  I  was  a  dog  with  a  bad  name — good  enough 
for  hanging,  and  nothing  else." 

He  was  holding  the  gate,  and  perforce  she  had 
to  hear  him  out. 

"What  do  I  care  about  that?"  she  cried,  in  a 
fierce  gust  of  passion.  "I  see  you  are  cur  and  cow 
ard!  You  lied  to  me.  You  didn't  keep  faith  and 
free  Jack  Flatray.  That  is  enough." 

She  was  the  one  person  in  the  world  who  had 
power  to  wound  him.  Nor  did  it  hurt  the  less  that 
it  was  the  truth.  He  drew  back  as  if  the  lash  of  a 
whip  had  swept  across  his  face. 

"No  man  alive  can  say  that  to  me  and  live!"  he 
told  her.  "Cur  I  may  be;  but  you're  my  wife, 
'Lissie  MacQueen.  Don't  forget  that." 

"Go!  Go!"  she  choked.  "I  hope  to  God  I'll 
never  see  your  face  again !" 

She  flew  along  the  grass-bordered  walk,  whipped, 
open  the  front  door,  and  disappeared  within.  She 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  stood  trembling  in 
the  darkness.  She  half  expected  him  to  follow,  to 
attempt  to  regain  possession  of  her. 

But  the  creak  of  his  quick  step  on  the  porch  did 
not  come.  Only  her  hammering  heart  stirred  in 
the  black  silence.  She  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief, 
and  sank  down  on  the  stairs.  It  was  over  at  last, 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 819 

the  horrible  nightmare  through  which  she  had  been 
living. 

Gradually  she  fought  down  her  fears  and  took 
hold  of  herself.  She  must  find  her  father  and  re 
lieve  his  anxiety.  Quietly  she  opened  the  door  of 
the  hall  into  the  living  room. 

A  man  sat  at  the  table,  with  his  back  to  her,  in 
an  attitude  of  utter  dejection.  He  was  leaning  for 
ward,  with  his  head  buried  in  his  arms.  It  was  her 
father.  She  stepped  forward,  and  put  her  hands 
on  his  bowed  shoulders. 

"Daddy,"  she  said  softly. 

At  her  touch  the  haggard,  hopeless,  unshaven  face 
was  lifted  toward  her.  For  a  moment  Lee  looked  at 
her  as  if  she  had  been  a  wraith.  Then,  with  a 
hoarse  cry,  he  arose  and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

Neither  of  them  could  speak  for  emotion.  He 
tried  it  twice  before  he  could  get  out : 

"Baby!     Honey!" 

He  choked  back  the  sobs  in  his  throat.  "Where 
did  you  come  from?  I  thought  sure  MacQueen  had 
you." 

"He  had.  He  took  me  to  Dead  Man's  Cache 
with  him." 

"And  you  escaped.     Praise  the  Lord,  honey!" 

"No — he  brought  me  back." 

"MacQueen  did!  Goddlemighty — he  knows 
what's  best  for  him!" 

"He  brought  me  back  to — to *  She  broke 

down,  and  buried  her  head  in  his  shoulder.. 


320  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Long,  dry  sobs  racked  her.  The  father  divined 
with  alarm  that  he  did  not  know  the  worst. 

"Tell  me — tell  me,  'Lissie!  Brought  you  back 
to  do  what,  honey?"  He  held  her  back  from  him, 
his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"To  marry  me." 

"What!" 

"To  marry  me.  And  he  did — fifteen  minutes  ago. 
f  am  Black  MacOueen's  wife." 

"Black  MacQueen's  wife !  My  God,  girl !"  Big 
Beauchamp  Lee  stared  at  her  in  a  horror  of  in 
credulity. 

She  told  him  the  whole  story,  from  beginning 
to  end 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  TAKING  OF  THE  CACHE 

IT  was  understood  that  in  the  absence  of  the 
sheriff  Richard  Bellamy  should  have  charge 
of  the  posse,  and  after  the  disappearance  of 
Flatray  he  took  command. 

With  the  passing  years  Bellamy  had  become  a 
larger  figure  in  the  community.  The  Monte  Cristo 
mine  had  made  him  independently  wealthy,  even 
though  he  had  deeded  one-third  of  it  to  Melissy 
Lee.  Arizona  had  forgiven  him  his  experiment  at 
importing  sheep  and  he  was  being  spoken  of  as  a 
territorial  delegate  to  Congress,  a  place  the  mine 
owner  by  no  means  wanted.  For  his  interests  were 
now  bound  up  in  the  Southwest.  His  home  was 
there.  Already  a  little  toddler's  soft  fat  fist  was 
clinging  to  the  skirt  of  Feme. 

At  first  Bellamy,  as  well  as  Farnum,  McKinstra, 
young  Yarnell  and  the  rest  of  the  posse  looked  ex 
pectantly  for  the  return  of  the  sheriff.  It  was  hard 
to  believe  that  one  so  virile,  so  competent,  so  much 
a  dominant  factor  of  every  situation  he  confronted, 
could  have  fallen  a  victim  to  the  men  he  hunted. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


But  as  the  days  passed  with  no  news  of  him  the 
conviction  grew  that  he  had  been  waylaid  and  shot. 
The  hunt  went  on,  but  the  rule  now  was  that  no 
move  should  be  made  singly.  Not  even  for  an  hour 
did  the  couples  separate. 

One  evening  a  woman  drifted  into  camp  just  as 
they  were  getting  ready  to  roll  into  their  blankets. 
McKinstra  was  on  sentry  duty,  but  she  got  by  him 
unobserved  and  startled  Farnum  into  drawing  his 
gun. 

Yet  all  she  said  was  :    "  Buenos  tardes,  senor" 

The  woman  was  a  wrinkled  Mexican  with  a  close- 
shut,  bitter  mouth  and  bright,  snappy  eyes. 

Farnum  stared  at  her  in  surprise.  "Who  in  Ari 
zona  are  you?" 

It  was  decidedly  disturbing  to  think  what  might 
have  happened  if  MacQueen's  outfit  had  dropped 
in  on  them,  instead  of  one  lone  old  woman. 

"Rosario  Chaves." 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  ma'am.  Won't  you  sit  down?" 

The  others  had  by  this  time  gathered  around. 

Rosario  spoke  in  Spanish,  and  Bob  Farnum  an 
swered  in  the  same  language.  "You  want  to  find 
the  way  into  Dead  Man's  Cache,  senor?" 

"Do  we?    I  reckon  yes!" 

"Let  me  be  your  guide." 

"You  know  the  way  in?" 

"I  live  there." 

"Connected  with  MacQueen's  outfit,  maybe?'" 

"I  cook  for  him.     My  son  was  one  of  his  men." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 323 

"Was?" 

"Yes.  He  was  killed — shot  by  Lieutenant  O'Con 
nor,  the  same  man  who  was  a  prisoner  at  the  Cache 
until  yesterday  morning." 

"Killed  lately,  ma'am?" 

"Two  years  ago.  We  swore  revenge.  MacQueen 
did  not  keep  his  oath,  the  oath  we  all  swore  to 
gether." 

Bellamy  began  to  understand  the  situation.  She 
wanted  to  get  back  at  MacQueen,  unless  she  were 
trying  to  lead  them  into  a  trap. 

"Let's  get  this  straight.  MacQueen  turned 
O'Connor  loose,  did  he?"  Bellamy  questioned. 

"No.  He  escaped.  This  man — what  you  call 
him? — the  sheriff,  helped  him  and  Seiior  West  to 
break  away." 

The  mine  owner's  eye  met  Farnum's.  They 
were  being  told  much  news. 

"So  they  all  escaped,  did  they?" 

"Si,  senor,  but  MacQueen  took  West  and  the 
sheriff  next  morning.  They  could  not  find  their 
way  out  of  the  valley." 

"But  O'Connor  escaped.     Is  that  it?" 

Her  eyes  flashed  hatred.     "He  escaped  becaus 
the  sheriff  helped  him.     His  life  was  forfeit  to  me. 
So  then  was  the  sheriff's.     MacQueen  he  admit  it. 
But  when  the  girl  promise  to  marry  him  he  speak 
different." 

"What  girl?" 

"Senorita  Lee." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


"Not  Melissy  Lee." 

"Si,  senor." 

"My  God  !  Melissy  Lee  a  prisoner  of  that  infer 
nal  villain.  How  did  she  come  there?" 

The  Mexican  woman  was  surprised  at  the  sud 
den  change  that  had  come  over  the  men.  They 
had  grown  tense  and  alert.  Interest  had  flamed 
into  a  passionate  eagerness. 

Rosario  Chaves  told  the  story  from  beginning 
to  end,  so  far  as  she  knew  it;  and  every  sentence 
of  it  wrung  the  big  heart  of  these  men.  The  pathos 
of  it  hit  them  hard.  Their  little  comrade,  the  girl 
they  had  been  fond  of  for  years  —  the  bravest,  truest 
lass  in  Arizona  —  had  fallen  a  victim  to  this  intoler 
able  fate!  They  could  have  wept  with  the  agony 
of  it  if  they  had  known  how. 

"Are  you  sure  they  were  married?  Maybe  the 
thing  slipped  up,"  Alan  suggested,  the  hope  father 
to  the  thought. 

But  this  hope  was  denied  him;  for  the  woman 
had  brought  with  her  a  copy  of  the  Mesa  Sentinel, 
with  an  account  of  the  marriage  and  the  reason  for 
it.  This  had  been  issued  on  the  morning  after  the 
event,  and  MacQueen  had  brought  it  back  with  him 
to  the  Cache. 

Bellamy  arranged  with  the  Mexican  woman  a 
plan  of  attack  upon  the  valley.  Camp  was  struck 
at  once,  and  she  guided  them  through  tortuous 
ravines  and  gulches  deeper  into  the  Roaring  Fork 
country.  She  left  them  in  a  grove  of  aspens,  just 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


above  the  lip  of  the  valley,  on  the  side  least  fre 
quented  by  the  outlaws. 

They  were  to  lie  low  until  they  should  receive 
from  her  a  signal  that  most  of  the  gang  had  left 
to  take  West  to  the  place  appointed  for  the  ex 
change.  They  were  then  to  wait  through  the  day 
until  dusk,  slip  quietly  down,  and  capture  the  ranch 
before  the  return  of  the  party  with  the  gold.  In 
case  anything  should  occur  to  delay  the  attack  on 
the  ranch,  another  signal  was  to  be  given  by  Ro-~ 
sario. 

The  first  signal  was  to  be  the  hanging  of  washing- 
upon  the  line.  If  this  should  be  removed  before 
nightfall,  Bellamy  was  to  wait  until  he  should  hear 
from  her  again. 

Bellamy  believed  that  the  Chaves  woman  was 
playing  square  with  him,  but  he  preferred  to  take 
no  chances.  As  soon  as  she  had  left  to  return  to 
the  settlement  of  the  outlaws  he  moved  camp  again 
to  a  point  almost  half  a  mile  from  the  place  where 
she  had  last  seen  them.  If  the  whole  thing  were  a 
"plant,"  and  a  night  attack  had  been  planned,  he 
wanted  to  be  where  he  and  his  men  could  ambush 
the  ambushers,  if  necessary. 

But  the  night  passed  without  any  alarm.  As  the 
morning  wore  away  the  scheduled  washing  appeared 
on  the  line.  Farnum  crept  down  to  the  valley  lip 
and  trained  his  glasses  on  the  ranch  house.  Occa 
sionally  he  could  discern  somebody  moving  abotrt, 
though  there  were  not  enough  signs  of  activity  to 


•326  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

show  the  presence  of  many  people.  All  day  the 
wash  hung  drying  on  the  line.  Dusk  came,  the 
blankets  still  signaling  that  all  was  well. 

Bellamy  led  his  men  forward  under  cover,  fol 
lowing  the  wooded  ridge  above  the  Cache  so  long 
as  there  was  light  enough  by  which  they  might  be 
observed  from  the  valley.  With  the  growing  dark 
ness  he  began  the  descent  into  the  bowl  just  behind 
the  corral.  A  light  shone  in  the  larger  cabin;  and 
Bellamy  knew  that,  unless  Rosario  were  playing  him 
false,  the  men  would  be  at  supper  there.  He  left 
;his  men  lying  down  behind  the  corral,  while  he  crept 
.forward  to  the  window  from  which  the  light  was 
•coming. 

In  the  room  were  two  men  and  the  Mexican 
woman.  The  men,  with  elbows  far  apart,  and  knives 
and  forks  very  busy,  were  giving  strict  attention 
to  the  business  in  hand.  Rosario  waited  upon  them, 
but  with  ear  and  eye  guiltily  alert  to  catch  the  least 
sound.  The  mine  owner  could  even  overhear  frag 
ments  of  the  talk. 

"Ought  to  get  back  by  midnight,  don't  you 
reckon?  Pass  the  cow  and  the  sugar,  Buck.  Keep 
a-coming  with  that  coffee,  Rosario.  I  ain't  a  mite 
afraid  but  what  MacQueen  will  pull  it  off  ill  right, 
you  bet." 

"Sure,  he  will.  Give  that  molasses  a  shove, 
Tom " 

Bellamy  drew  his  revolver  and  slipped  around  to 
the  front  door.  He  came  in  so  quietly  that  neither 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 327 

of  the  men  heard  him.  Both  had  their  backs  to 
the  door. 

"Figure  it  up,  and  it  makes  a  right  good  week's 
work.  I  reckon  I'll  go  down  to  Chihuahua  and 
break  the  bank  at  Miguel's,"  one  of  them  was 
saying. 

"Better  go  to  Yuma  and  break  stones  for  a  spell, 
Buck,"  suggested  a  voice  from  the  doorway. 

Both  men  slewed  their  heads  around  as  if  they 
had  been  worked  by  the  same  lever.  Their  mouths 
opened,  and  their  eyes  bulged.  A  shining  revolver 
covered  them  competently. 

"Now,  don't  you,  Buck — nor  you  either,  Tom!" 
This  advice  because  of  a  tentative  movement  each 
had  made  with  his  right  hand.  "I'm  awful  care 
less  about  spilling  lead,  when  I  get  excited.  Better 
reach  for  the  roof;  then  you  won't  have  any  temp 
tations  to  suicide." 

The  hard  eyes  of  the  outlaws  swept  swiftly  over 
the  cattleman.  Had  he  shown  any  sign  of  inde 
cision,  they  would  have  taken  a  chance  and  shot  it 
out.  But  he  was  so  easily  master  of  himself  that 
the  impulse  to  "draw"  died  stillborn. 

Bellamy  gave  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle.  Footsteps 
came  pounding  across  the  open,  and  three  armed 
men  showed  at  the  door. 

"Darn  my  skin  if  the  old  son  of  a  gun  hasn't 
hogged  all  the  glory!"  Bob  Farnum  complained 
joyfully.  "Won't  you  introduce  us  to  your  friends, 
Bellamy  ?" 


828  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"This  gentleman  with  the  biscuit  in  his  hand  is 
Buck;  the  one  so  partial  to  porterhouse  steak  is 
Tom,"  returned  Bellamy  gravely. 

"Glad  to  death  to  meet  you,  gents.  Your  hands 
seem  so  busy  drilling  for  the  ceiling,  we  won't  shake 
right  now.  If  it  would  be  any  kindness  to  you,  I'll 
unload  all  this  hardware,  though.  My!  You  tote 
enough  with  you  to  start  a  store,  boys." 

"How  did  you  find  your  way  in?"  growled  Buck. 

"Jest  drifted  in  on  our  automobiles  and  airships," 
Bob  told  him  airily,  as  he  unbuckled  the  revolver 
belt  and  handed  it  to  one  of  his  friends. 

The  outlaws  were  bound,  after  which  Rosario 
cooked  the  posse  a  dinner.  This  was  eaten  vora 
ciously  by  all,  for  camp  life  had  sharpened  the  ap 
petite  for  a  woman's  cooking. 

One  of  the  men  kept  watch  to  notify  them  when 
MacQueen  and  his  gang  should  enter  the  valley, 
while  the  others  played  "pitch"  to  pass  the  time. 
In  spite  of  this,  the  hours  dragged.  It  was  a  good 
deal  like  waiting  for  a  battle  to  begin.  Bellamy  and 
Farnum  had  no  nerves,  but  the  others  became  ner 
vous  and  anxious. 

"I  reckon  something  is  keeping  them,"  suggested 
Alan,  after  looking  at  his  watch  for  the  fifth  time 
in  half  an  hour.  "Don't  you  reckon  we  better  go 
up  the  trail  a  bit  to  meet  them?" 

"I  reckon  we  better  wait  here,  Alan.  Bid  three," 
returned  Farnum  evenly. 

As  he  spoke,  their  scout  came  running  it. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


'They're  here,  boys!" 

"Good  enough!     How  many  of  them?" 

"Four  of  'em,  looked  like.  They  were  winding 
down  the  trail,  and  I  couldn't  make  out  how  many." 

"All  right,  boys.  Steady,  now,  till  they  get  down 
from  their  horses.  Hal,  out  with  the  light  when  I 
give  the  word." 

It  was  a  minute  to  shake  nerves  of  steel.  They 
could  hear  the  sound  of  voices,  an  echo  of  jubilant 
laughter,  the  sound  of  iron  shoes  striking  stones  in 
the  trail.  Then  some  one  shouted : 

"Oh,  you,  Buck!" 

The  program  might  have  gone  through  as  ar 
ranged,  but  for  an  unlooked-for  factor  in  the  pro 
ceedings.  Buck  let  out  a  shout  of  warning  to  his 
trapped  friends.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  the 
butt  of  Farnum's  revolver  smashed  down  on  his 
head ;  but  the  damage  was  already  done. 

Bellamy  and  his  friends  swarmed  out  like  bees. 
The  outlaws  were  waiting  irresolutely — some 
mounted,  others  beside  their  horses.  Among  them 
were  two  pack  horses. 

"Hands  up!"  ordered  the  mine  owner  sharply. 

The  answer  was  a  streak  of  fire  from  a  rifle.  In 
stantly  there  followed  a  fusillade.  Flash  after  flash 
lit  up  the  darkness.  Staccato  oaths,  cries,  a  moan 
of  pain,  the  trampling  of  frightened  horses,  filled 
the  night  with  confusion. 

In  spite  of  the  shout  of  warning,  the  situation 
had  come  upon  the  bandits  as  a  complete  surprise. 


8SO  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

How  many  were  against  them,  whether  or  not  they 
were  betrayed,  the  certainty  that  the  law  had  at 
last  taken  them  at  a  disadvantage — these  things 
worked  with  the  darkness  for  the  posse.  A  man 
flung  himself  on  his  pony,  lay  low  on  its  back,  and 
galloped  wildly  into  the  night.  A  second  wheeled 
and  followed  at  his  heels.  Hank  Irwin  was  down, 
with  a  bullet  from  a  carbine  through  his  jaw  and 
the  back  of  his  head.  A  wild  shot  had  brought 
down  another.  Of  the  outlaws  only  MacQueen, 
standing  behind  his  horse  as  he  fired,  remained  on 
the  field  uninjured. 

The  cattlemen  had  scattered  as  the  firing  began, 
and  had  availed  themselves  of  such  cover  as  was 
to  be  had.  Now  they  concentrated  their  fire  on  the 
leader  of  the  outlaws.  His  horse  staggered  and 
went  down,  badly  torn  by  a  rifle  bullet.  A  moment 
later  the  special  thirty-two  carbine  he  carried  was 
knocked  from  his  hands  by  another  shot. 

He  crouched  and  ran  to  Irwin's  horse,  flung  him 
self  to  the  saddle,  deliberately  emptied  his  revolver 
at  his  foes,  and  put  spurs  to  the  broncho.  As  he 
vanished  into  the  hills  Bob  Farnum  slowly  sank  to 
the  ground. 

"I've  got  mine,  Bellamy.  Blamed  if  he  ain't 
plumb  bust  my  laig!" 

The  mine  owner  covered  the  two  wounded  out 
laws,  while  his  men  disarmed  them.  Then  he  walked 
across  to  his  friend,  laid  down  his  rifle,  and  knelt 
beside  him. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 831 

"Did  he  get  you  bad,  old  man?" 

"Bad  enough  so  I  reckon  I'll  have  a  doc  look  at 
it  one  of  these  days."  Bob  grinned  to  keep  down 
the  pain. 

Once  more  there  came  the  sound  of  hoofs  beat 
ing  the  trail  of  decomposed  granite.  Bellamy  looked 
up  and  grasped  his  rifle.  A  single  rider  loomed  out 
of  the  darkness  and  dragged  his  horse  to  a  halt,  a 
dozen  yards  from  the  mine  owner,  in  such  a  posi 
tion  that  he  was  directly  behind  one  of  the  pack 
horses. 

"Up  with  your  hands!"  ordered  Bellamy  on  sus 
picion. 

Two  hands  went  swiftly  up  from  beside  the  sad 
dle.  The  moonlight  gleamed  on  something  bright 
in  the  right  hand.  A  flash  rent  the  night.  A  jagged, 
red-hot  pain  tore  through  the  shoulder  of  Hal  Yar- 
nell.  He  fired  wildly,  the  shock  having  spoiled  his 
aim. 

The  attacker  laughed  exultantly,  mockingly,  as 
he  swung  his  horse  about. 

"A  present  from  Black  MacQueen,"  he  jeered. 

With  that,  he  wras  gone  again,  taking  the  pack 
animal  with  him.  He  had  had  the  audacity  to  come 
back  after  his  loot — and  had  got  some  of  it,  too. 

One  of  the  un wounded  cowpunchers  gave  pur 
suit,  but  half  an  hour  later  he  returned  ruefully. 

"I  lost  him  somehow — darned  if  I  know  how.  I 
seen  him  before  me  one  minute;  the  next  he  was 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 


gone.  Must  'a'  known  some  trail  that  led  off  from 
the  road,  I  reckon." 

Bellamy  said  nothing.  He  intended  to  take  up 
the  trail  in  person;  but  first  the  wounded  had  to  be 
looked  to,  a  man  dispatched  for  a  doctor,  and  things 
made  safe  against  another  possible  but  improbable 
attack.  It  was  to  be  a  busy  night;  for  he  had  on 
hand  three  wounded  men,  as  well  as  two  prisoners 
who  were  sound.  An  examination  showed  him  that 
neither  of  the  two  wounded  outlaws  nor  Farnum 
nor  Yarnell  were  fatally  shot.  All  were  hardy  out 
doors  men,  who  had  lived  in  the  balsamic  air  of 
the  hills  ;  if  complications  did  not  ensue,  they  would 
recover  beyond  question. 

In  this  extremity  Rosario  was  a  first  aid  to  the 
injured.  She  had  betrayed  the  bandits  without  the 
least  compunction,  because  they  had  ignored  the  oath 
of  vengeance  against  the  slayer  of  her  son  ;  but  she 
nursed  them  all  impartially  and  skillfully  until  the 
doctor  arrived,  late  next  day. 

Meanwhile  Bellamy  and  McKinstra,  guided  by 
one  of  the  outlaws,  surprised  Jeff  and  released  Flat- 
ray,  who  returned  with  them  to  camp. 

With  the  doctor  had  come  also  four  members  of 
the  Lee  posse.  To  the  deputy  in  charge  Jack  turned 
over  his  four  prisoners  and  the  gold  recovered. 
As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  examined  and  dressed 
his  wound  he  mounted  and  took  the  trail  after  Mac- 
Queen.  With  him  rode  Bellamy. 


CHAPTER  xnr 

MELISSY  ENTERTAINS 

THE  notes  of  Schumann's  "Traiimerei"  died 
away.  Melissy  glanced  over  her  music, 
and  presently  ran  lightly  into  Chopin's 
"Valse  Au  Petit  Chien."  She  was,  after  all,  only 
a  girl;  and  there  were  moments  when  she  forgot 
to  remember  that  she  was  wedded  to  the  worst 
of  unhanged  villains.  When  she  drowned  herself 
fathoms  deep  in  her  music,  she  had  the  best  chance 
of  forgetting. 

Chaminade's  "The  Flatterer"  followed.  In  the 
midst  of  this  the  door  opened  quietly  and  closed 
again.  Melissy  finished,  fingered  her  music,  and 
became  somehow  aware  that  she  was  not  alone.  She 
turned  unhurriedly  on  the  seat  and  met  the  smiling 
eyes  of  her  husband. 

From  his  high-heeled  boots  to  his  black,  glossy 
hair,  Black  MacQueen  was  dusty  with  travel.  Be 
side  him  was  a  gunny  sack,  tied  in  the  middle  and 
filled  at  both  ends.  Picturesque  he  was  and  always 
would  be,  but  his  present  costume  scarce  fitted  the 


334  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

presence  of  a  lady.  Yet  of  this  he  gave  no  sign. 
He  was  leaning  back  in  a  morris  chair,  rakish, 
debonair,  and  at  his  ease.  Evidently,  he  had  been 
giving  appreciative  ear  to  the  music,  and  more  ap 
preciative  eye  to  the  musician. 

"So  it's  you,"  said  Melissy,  white  to  the  lips. 

MacQueen  arose,  recovered  his  dusty  hat  from 
the  floor,  and  bowed  theatrically.  "Your  long-lost 
husband,  my  dear." 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I'm  visiting  my  wife.  The  explanation  seems 
a  trifle  obvious." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"Have  I  said  I  wanted  anything?" 

"Then  you  had  better  leave.  I'll  give  you  up  if 
I  get  a  chance." 

He  looked  at  her  with  lazy  derision.  "I  like 
you  angry.  Your  eyes  snap  electricity,  sweet." 

"Oh!"  She  gave  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "Do 
you  know  that,  if  I  were  to  step  to  that  window 
and  call  out  your  name,  the  whole  town  would  be 
in  arms  against  you?" 

"Why  don't  you?" 

"I  shall,  if  you  don't  go." 

"Are  you  alone  in  the  house  ?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  ?"    Her  heart  was  beating  fast. 

"Because  you  must  hide  me  till  night.  Is  your 
father  here  ?" 

"Not  now.  He  is  hunting  you — to  kill  you  if  he 
finds  you." 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 335 

"Servants?" 

"The  cook  is  out  for  the  afternoon.  She  will  be 
back  in  an  hour  or  two." 

"Good!     Get  me  food." 

She  did  not  rise.  "I  must  know  more.  What  is 
it?  Are  they  hunting  you?  What  have  you  done 
now  ?"  A  strong  suppressed  excitement  beat  in  her 
pulses. 

"It  is  not  what  I  have  done,  but  what  your  friends 
have  done.  Yesterday  I  went  to  exchange  West 
for  the  ransom  money.  Most  of  my  men  I  had  to 
take  with  me,  to  guard  against  foul  play.  We  held 
the  canon  from  the  flat  tops,  and  everything  went 
all  right.  The  exchange  was  made.  We  took  the 
ransom  money  back  to  the  Cache.  I  don't  know 
how  it  was — whether  somebody  played  me  false  and 
sold  us,  or  whether  your  friend  Flatray  got  loose 
and  his  p'osse  stumbled  in  by  accident.  But  there 
they  were  in  the  Cache  when  we  got  back." 

"Yes?"  The  keenest  agitation  was  in  Melissy's 
voice. 

"They  took  us  by  surprise.  We  fought.  Two 
of  my  men  ran  away.  Two  were  shot  down.  I 
was  alone." 

"And  then?" 

•  The  devil  of  torment  moved  in  him.  "Then  I 
shot  up  one  of  your  friend's  outfit,  rode  away, 
changed  my  mind,  and  went  back,  shot  your  friend, 
and  hiked  off  into  the  hills  with  a  pack  horse  loaded 
with  gold." 


336  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

Out  of  all  this  one  thing  stood  out  terribly  to 
her.  "You  shot  Jack  Flatray — again!" 

He  laughed.  One  lie  more  or  less  made  no  dif 
ference.  "I  sure  did." 

She  had  to  moisten  her  lips  before  she  could  ask 
the  next  question  :  "You — killed  him?" 

"No— worse  luck!" 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"He  and  another  man  were  on  the  trail  after  me 
to-day.  I  saw  them  pass  up  Moose  Creek  from  a 
ledge  on  which  I  was  lying.  If  I  had  had  a  rifle, 
I  would  have  finished  the  job;  but  my  carbine  was 
gone.  It  was  too  far  for  a  six-gun." 

"But,  if  you  wounded  him  last  night,  how  could 
he  be  trailing  you  to-day?" 

"I  reckon  it  was  a  flesh  wound.  His  shoulder 
was  tied  up,  I  noticed."  Impatiently  he  waved 
Flatray  out  of  the  conversation.  "I  didn't  come 
here  to  tell  you  about  him.  I  got  to  get  out  on  to 
night's  train.  This  country  has  grown  too  hot  for 
me.  You're  going  with  me?" 

"No!" 

"Yes,  by  God!" 

"I'll  never  go  with  you — never — never!"  she 
cried  passionately.  "I'm  free  of  the  bargain.  You 
broke  faith.  So  shall  I." 

She  saw  his  jaw  clamp.  "So  you're  going  to 
throw  me  down,  are  you?" 

Melissy  stood  before  him,  slim  and  straight,  with 
out  yielding  an  inch.  She  was  quite  colorless,  for 


BRAND    BLOTTERS 337 

he  was  a  man  with  whose  impulses  she  could  not 
reckon.  But  one  thing  she  knew.  He  could  never 
take  her  away  with  him  and  escape.  And  she  knew 
that  he  must  know  it,  too. 

"If  you  want  to  call  it  that.  You  tricked  me 
into  marrying  you.  You  meant  to  betray  me  all 
the  time.  Go,  while  there's  still  a  chance.  I  don't 
want  your  blood  on  my  hands." 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  always  wanted 
more  what  he  could  not  get. 

"Don't  answer  so  quick,  girl.  Listen  to  me. 
I've  got  enough  in  that  sack  to  start  us  in  the  cat 
tle  business  in  Argentina.  There's  more  buried  in 
the  hills,  if  we  need  it.  Girl,  I  tell  you  I'm  going 
to  run  straight  from  to-day!" 

She  laughed  scornfully.  "And  in  the  same 
breath  you  tell  me  how  much  you  have  stolen  and 
are  taking  with  you.  If  you  were  a  Crcesus,  I 
wouldn't  go  with  you."  She  flamed  into  sudden, 
fierce  passion.  "Will  you  never  understand  that  I 
hate  and  detest  you?" 

"You  think  you  do,  but  you  don't.  You  love  me 
— only  you  \von't  let  yourself  believe  it." 

"There's  no  arguing  with  such  colossal  conceit," 
she  retorted,  with  hard  laughter.  "It's  no  use  to 
tell  you  that  I  should  like  to  see  you  dead  at  my 
feet." 

Swiftly  he  slid  a  revolver  from  its  holster,  and 
presented  it  to  her,  butt  first.  "You  can  have  your 
wish  right  easy,  if  you  mean  it.  Go  to  it.  There's 


338  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

no  danger.  All  you've  got  to  give  out  is  that  I 
frightened  you.  You'll  be  a  heroine,  too." 

She  looked  at  the  weapon  and  at  him,  and  the 
very  thought  of  it  made  her  sick.  She  saw  the 
thing  almost  as  if  it  were  already  done — the  smok 
ing  revolver  in  her  hand,  and  the  man  lying  motion 
less  before  her. 

"Take  it  away,"  she  said,  with  a  shudder. 

"You  see,  you  can't  do  it!  You  can't  even  go 
to  the  window  there  and  shout  out  that  Black  Mac- 
Queen  is  with  you  in  the  house.  You  don't  hate 
me  at  all,  my  dear." 

"Because  I  won't  kill  you  with  my  owf  hand? 
You  reason  logically." 

"Then  why  don't  you  betray  my  presence  ?  Why 
don't  you  call  your  friends  in  to  take  me?" 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  won't;  but  if  I  don't,  it  will 
be  for  their  sakes,  and  not  for  yours.  They  could 
not  take  you  without  loss  of  life." 

"You're  right  there,"  he  agreed,  with  a  flash  of 
his  tigerish  ferocity.  "They  couldn't  take  me  alive 
at  all,  and  I  reckon  before  I  checked  in  a  few  of 
them  would." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

BLACK   MACQUEEN  CASHES   HIS   CHECKS 

IT  was  part  of  his  supreme  audacity  to  trust 
her.  While  he  was  changing  his  dusty,  travel- 
stained  clothes  for  some  that  belonged  to  her 
brother  she  prepared  a  meal  for  him  downstairs. 
A  dozen  times  the  impulse  was  on  her  to  fly  into 
the  street  and  call  out  that  Black  MacOueen  was 
in  the  house,  but  always  she  restrained  herself.  He 
was  going  to  leave  the  country  within  a  few  hours. 
Better  let  him  go  without  bloodshed. 

He  came  down  to  his  dinner  fresh  from  a  bath 
and  a  shave,  wearing  a  new  tweed  suit,  which  fitted 
him  a  trifle  loosely,  but  was  not  unbecoming  to  his 
trim,  lithe  figure.  No  commercial  traveler  at  a 
familiar  hotel  could  have  been  more  jauntily  and 
blithely  at  home. 

"So  you  didn't  run  away!"    He  grinned. 

"Not  yet.  I'm  going  to  later.  I  owe  you  a  meal, 
and  I  wanted  to  pay  it  first." 

It  was  his  very  contempt  of  fear  that  had  held 
her.  To  fool  away  half  an  hour  in  dressing,  know 
ing  that  it  was  very  likely  she  might  be  summoning1 

339 


340  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

men  to  kill  him — to  come  down  confident  and  un 
perturbed,  possibly  to  meet  his  death — was  such  a 
piece  of  dare-deviltry  as  won  reluctant  admiration, 
in  spite  of  her  detestation  of  him.  Even  if  she  did 
not  give  him  up,  his  situation  was  precarious  in  the 
extreme.  All  the  trains  were  being  watched;  and 
in  spite  of  this  he  had  to  walk  boldly  to  the  station, 
buy  a  ticket,  and  pass  himself  off  for  an  ordinary 
traveler. 

Both  knew  that  the  chances  were  against  him, 
but  he  gave  no  sign  of  concern  or  anxiety.  Never 
had  Melissy  seen  him  so  full  of  spirits.  The  situa 
tion  would  have  depressed  most  men ;  him  it  merely 
stimulated.  The  excitement  of  it  ran  like  wine 
through  his  blood.  Driven  from  his  hills,  with 
every  man's  hand  against  him,  with  the  avenues 
of  escape  apparently  closed,  he  was  in  his  glory. 
He  would  play  his  cards  out  to  the  end,  without 
whining,  no  matter  how  the  game  might  go. 

Melissy  washed  the  dishes,  in  order  that  the  cook 
might  not  know  that  she  had  had  a  guest  for  lunch 
eon.  The  two  returned  to  the  living  room.  It  was 
his  whim  to  have  her  play  for  him;  and  she  was 
glad  to  comply,  because  it  interfered  with  his  woo 
ing.  She  was  no  longer  greatly  afraid  of  him,  for 
she  knew  that  he  was  on  his  good  behavior  to  win 
her  liking. 

Fortune  favored  her.  For  some  time  they  had 
heard  the  cook  moving  about  in  the  kitchen.  Once 
she  had  poked  her  head  in  to  know  whether  her 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  34! 

young  mistress  would  like  the  cherry  pie  for  dinner. 

"I  didn't  know  yez  had  company,  Miss  'Lissie," 
she  had  apologized. 

"This  gentleman  will  stay  to  dinner,"  Melissy 
had  announced. 

At  luncheon  Melissy  had  not  eaten  with  him; 
but  at  dinner  it  was  necessary,  on  account  of  the 
cook,  that  she  sit  down,  too.  The  meal  had  scarce 
begun  when  Kate  came  beaming  in. 

"Shure,  Miss  'Lissie,  there's  another  young  gen 
tleman  at  the  door.  It's  Mr.  Bellamy.  I  tould  him 
to  come  right  in.  He's  washing  his  face  first." 

Melissy  rose,  white  as  a  sheet.    "All  right,  Kate." 

But  as  soon  as  the  cook  had  left  the  room  she 
turned  to  the  outlaw.  "What  shall  I  do?  What 
shall  I  do?" 

Little  whimsical  imps  of  mischief  shone  in  his 
eyes.  "Have  him  in  and  introduce  him  to  your 
husband,  my  dear." 

"You  must  go — quick.  If  I  don't  get  rid  of  him, 
you'll  be  able  to  slip  out  the  back  way  and  get  to 
the  depot.  He  doesn't  know  you  are  here." 

MacOueen  sat  back  and  gave  her  his  easy,  reck 
less  smile.  "Guess  again.  Bellamy  can't  drive  me 
out." 

She  caught  her  hands  together.  "Oh,  go — gol 
There  will  be  trouble.  You  wouldn't  kill  him  be 
fore  my  very  eyes!" 

"Not  unless  he  makes  the  first  play.  It's  up  to 
him."  He  laughed  with  the  very  delight  of  it 


342  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

"I'd  as  lief  settle  my  account  with  him  right  now. 
He's  meddled  too  much  in  my  affairs. " 

She  broke  out  in  a  cry  of  distress:  "You 
wouldn't!  I've  treated  you  fair.  I  could  have  be 
trayed  you,  and  I  didn't.  Aren't  you  going  to  play 
square  with  me?" 

He  nodded.  "All  right.  Show  him  in.  He 
won't  know  me  except  as  Lieutenant  O'Connor.  It 
was  too  dark  last  night  to  see  my  face." 

Bellamy  came  into  the  room. 

"How's  Jack?"  Melissy  asked  quickly  as  she 
caught  his  hand. 

"Good  as  new.    And  you?" 

"All  right." 

The  outlaw  stirred  uneasily  in  his  seat.  His  van 
ity  objected  to  another  man  holding  the  limelight 
while  he  was  present. 

Melissy  turned.  "I  think  you  have  never  met 
Lieutenant  O'Connor,  Mr.  Bellamy.  Lieutenant — 
Mr.  Bellamy." 

They  shook  hands.  MacQueen  smiled.  He  was 
enjoying  himself. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Bellamy.  You  and  Flat- 
ray  have  won  the  honors  surely.  You  beat  us  all 
to  it,  sir.  As  I  rode  in  this  mornin',  everybody  was 
telling  how  you  rounded  up  the  outlaws.  Have 
you  caught  MacQueen  himself?" 

"Not  yet.  We  have  reason  to  believe  that  he 
rode  within  ten  miles  of  town  this  morning  before 
he  cut  across  to  the  railroad.  The  chances  are  that 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  343 

he  will  try  to  board  a  train  at  some  water  tank  in 
the  dark.  We're  having  them  all  watched.  I  came 
in  to  telephone  all  stations  to  look  out  for  him." 

"Where's  Jack?"  Melissy  asked. 

"He'll  be  here  presently.  His  arm  was  troubling 
him  some,  so  he  stopped  to  see  the  doctor.  Then 
he  has  to  talk  with  his  deputy." 

"You're  sure  he  isn't  badly  hurt?" 

"No,  only  a  scratch,  he  calls  it." 

"Did  you  happen  on  Dead  Man's  Cache  by  acci 
dent?"  asked  MacQueen  with  well-assumed  care 
lessness. 

Bellamy  had  no  intention  of  giving  Rosario  away 
to  anybody.  "You  might  call  it  that,"  he  said 
evenly.  "You  know,  I  had  been  near  there  once 
when  I  was  out  hunting." 

"Do  you  expect  to  catch  MacQueen?"  the  outlaw 
asked,  a  faint  hint  of  irony  in  his  amused  voice. 

"I  can't  tell.    That's  what  I'm  hoping,  lieutenant." 

"We  hope  for  a  heap  of  things  we  never  get," 
returned  the  outlaw,  in  a  gentle  voice,  his  eyes  half 
shuttered  behind  drooping  lids. 

Melissy  cut  into  the  conversation  hurriedly. 
"Lieutenant  O'Connor  is  going  on  the  seven-five 
this  evening,  Mr.  Bellamy.  He  lias  business  that 
will  take  him  away  for  a  while.  It  is  time  we  were 
going.  Won't  you  walk  down  fc>  the  train  with  us  ?" 

MacQueen  swore  softly  under  his  breath,  but 
there  was  nothing  he  could  say  in  protest.  He  knew 
l&e  could  not  take  the  girl  with  him.  Now  he  had 


344 BRAND    BLOTTERS 

been  cheated  out  of  his  good-byes  by  her  woman's 
wit  in  dragging  Bellamy  to  the  depot  with  them. 
He  could  not  but  admire  the  adroitness  with  which 
she  had  utilized  her  friend  to  serve  her  end. 

They  walked  to  the  station  three  abreast,  the  out-  . 
law  carrying  as  lightly  as  he  could  the  heavy  suit 
case  that  held  his  plunder.    Melissy  made  small  talk  ' 
while  they  waited  for  the  train.    She  was  very  ner 
vous,  and  she  was  trying  not  to  show  it. 

"Next  time  you  come,  lieutenant,  we'll  have  a  fine 
stone  depot  to  show  you.  Mr.  West  has  promised 
to  make  Mesa  the  junction  point,  and  we're  sure 
to  have  a  boom,"  she  said. 

A  young  Mexican  vaquero  trailed  softly  behind 
them,  the  inevitable  cigarette  between  his  lips.  From 
under  his  broad,  silver-laced  sombrero  he  looked 
keenly  at  each  of  the  three  as  he  passed. 

A  whistle  sounded  clearly  in  the  distance. 

The  outlaw  turned  to  the  girl  beside  him.  "I'm 
coming  back  some  day  soon.  Be  sure  of  that,  Mrs. 
MacQueen." 

The  audacity  of  the  name  used,  designed  as  it 
was  to  stab  her  friend  and  to  remind  Melissy  how 
things  stood,  made  the  girl  gasp.  She  looked 
quickly  at  Bellamy  and  saw  him  crush  the  anger 
from  his  face. 

The  train  drew  into  the  station.  Presently  the 
conductor's  "All  aboard!"  served  notice  that  it  was 
starting.  The  outlaw  shook  hands  with  Melissy 
and  then  with  the  mine  owner. 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  345 

"Good-bye.  Don't  forget  that  I'm  coming  back," 
he  said,  in  a  perfectly  distinct,  low  tone. 

And  with  that  he  swung  aboard  the  Pullman  car 
with  his  heavy  suitcase.  An  instant  later  the  Mexi 
can  vaquero  pulled  himself  to  the  vestibule  of  the 
smoking  car  ahead. 

MacQueen  looked  back  from  the  end  of  the  train 
at  the  two  figures  on  the  platform.  A  third  figure 
had  joined  them.  It  was  Jack  Flatray.  The  girl 
and  the  sheriff  were  looking  at  each  other.  With 
a  furious  oath,  he  turned  on  his  heel.  For  the  evi 
dence  of  his  eyes  had  told  him  that  they  were  lovers. 

MacQueen  passed  into  the  coach  and  flung  him 
self  down  into  his  section  discontentedly.  The  savor 
of  his  adventure  was  gone.  He  had  made  his  escape 
with  a  large  share  of  the  plunder,  in  spite  of  spies 
and  posses.  But  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  he  had 
lost  forever  the  girl  whom  he  had  forced  to  marry 
him.  He  was  still  thinking  about  it  somberly  when 
a  figure  appeared  in  the  aisle  at  the  end  of  the  car. 

Instantly  the  outlaw  came  to  alert  attention,  and 
his  hand  slipped  to  the  butt  of  a  revolver.  The 
figure  was  that  of  the  Mexican  vaquero  whom  he 
had  carelessly  noted  on  the  platform  of  the  station. 
Vigilantly  his  gaze  covered  the  approaching  man. 
Surely  in  Arizona  there  were  not  two  men  with 
that  elastic  tread  or  that  lithe,  supple  figure. 

His  revolver  flashed  in  the  air.  "Stand  back, 
Bucky  O'Connor— or,  by  God,  I'll  drill  you!" 


346  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

The  vaquero  smiled.  "Right  guess,  Black  Mac- 
Queen.  I  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  law." 

Black's  revolver  spat  flame  twice  before  the 
ranger's  gun  got  into  action,  but  the  swaying  of  the 
train  caused  him  to  stagger  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

The  first  shot  of  Bucky's  revolver  went  through 
the  heart  of  the  outlaw;  but  so  relentless  was  the 
man  that,  even  after  that,  his  twitching  fingers  emp 
tied  the  revolver.  O'Connor  fired  only  once.  He 
watched  his  opponent  crumple  up,  fling  wild  shots 
into  the  upholstery  and  through  the  roof,  and  sink 
into  the  silence  from  which  there  is  no  awakening 
on  this  side  of  the  grave.  Then  he  went  forward 
and  looked  down  at  him. 

"I  reckon  that  ends  Black  MacOueen,"  he  said 
quietly.  "And  I  reckon  Melissy  Lee  is  a  widow." 


Jack  Flatray  had  met  O'Connor  at  his  own  office 
and  the  two  had  come  down  to  the  station  on  the 
off  chance  that  MacQueen  might  try  to  make  his 
getaway  from  Mesa  in  some  disguise.  But  as  soon 
as  he  saw  Melissy  the  sheriff  had  eyes  for  nobody 
else  except  the  girl  he  loved.  One  sleeve  of  his 
coat  was  empty,  and  his  shoulder  was  bandaged. 
He  looked  very  tired  and  drawn ;  for  he  had  ridden 
hard  more  than  sixteen  hours  with  a  painful  wound. 
But  the  moment  his  gaze  met  hers  she  knew  that 
his  thoughts  were  all  for  her  and  her  trouble. 

His  free  hand  went  ouMo  meet  hers.     She  for« 


BRAND    BLOTTERS  847 

got  MacQueen  and  all  the  sorrow  he  had  brought 
her.  Her  eyes  were  dewy  with  love  and  his  an 
swered  eagerly.  She  knew  now  that  she  would 
love  Jack  Flatray  for  better  or  worse  until  death 
should  part  them.  But  she  knew,  too,  that  the 
shadow  of  MacQueen,  her  husband  by  law,  was 
between  them. 

Together  they  walked  back  from  the  depot.  In 
the  shadow  of  the  vines  on  her  father's  porch  they 
stopped.  Jack  caught  her  hands  in  his  and  looked 
down  into  her  tired,  haggard  face  all  lit  with  love. 
Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  both. 

"You're  entitled  to  the  truth,  Jack,"  she  told  him. 
"I  love  you.  I  think  I  always  have.  And  I  know 
I  always  shall.  But  I'm  another  man's  wife.  It 
will  have  to  be  good-bye  between  us,  Jack,"  she  told 
him  wistfully. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  "You're 
ray  sweetheart.  I'll  not  give  you  up.  Don't 
think  it." 

He  spoke  with  such  strength,  such  assurance,  that 
she  knew  he  would  not  yield  without  a  struggle. 

"I'll  never  be  anything  to  him — never.  But  he 
stands  between  us.  Don't  you  see  he  does?" 

"No.  Your  marriage  to  him  is  empty  words. 
We'll  have  it  annulled.  It  will  not  stand  in  any 
court.  I've  won  you  and  I'm  going  to  keep  you. 
There's  no  two  ways  about  that." 

She  broke  down  and  began  to  sob  quietly  in  a 
heartbroken  fashion,  while  he  tried  to  comfort  her. 


348  BRAND    BLOTTERS 

It  was  not  so  easy  as  he  thought.  So  long  as  Mac- 
Queen  lived  Flatray  would  walk  in  danger  if  she 
did  as  he  wanted  her  to  do. 

Neither  of  them  knew  that  Bucky  O'Connor's 
bullet  had  already  annulled  the  marriage,  that  hap 
piness  was  already  on  the  wing  to  them. 

This  hour  was  to  be  for  their  grief,  the  next  for 
their  joy. 

THE  END. 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM   MACLEOD   RAINE 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.        Ask  for  Grosse*  &  Dunlap's  list. 

MAVERICKS 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "  rustler  "  abounds.    One  of  the  sweetMC 
,ove  stories  ever  told. 

A  TEXAS  RANGER 

How  a  member  of  the  border  police  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man,  followed  2 
liugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then  passed  through  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness. 
WYOMING 

In  this  vivid  story  the  author  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  all  its 
engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining:  centers  of  Montana,  where  politics  and  mining  in- 
dastries  are  the  religion  ot  the  country. 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  replete  with  the  dashing 
spirit  of  the  border. 

CROOKFD  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

A  story  of  Arizona  ;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws ;  of  a  bitter  feud  be 
tween  cattle-mui;  and  sheep-herders. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS 

A  story  of  the  turbid 
through  its  pagea. 

STEVE  YEAGER 

A  story  brimful  of  excitement,  with  enough  gun-play  and  adventure  to  suit  anyone 
A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DONS 

A  Western  story  of  romance  and  adventure,  comprising  a  vivacious  and  stirring 

THE  HIGH  GRADER 

A  breezy,  pleasant  and  amusing  love  story  of  Western  mining  life. 
THE  PIRATE  OF  PANAMA 

A  tale  of  old-time  pirates  and  of  modern  love,  hate  and  adventure- 
THE  YUKON  TRAIL 

A  crisply  entertaining  love  story  in  the  land  where  might  makes  right. 
THE  VISION  SPLENDID 

In  which  two  cousins  are  contestants  for  the  same  prizes ;  political  honors  and  th 
band  of  a  girl. 

THE   SHERIFF'S  SON 

The  hero  finally  conquers  both  himself  and  his  enemies  and  wins  the  lave  of  a 
wonderful  girl. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,          PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


A  story  of  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  a  charming  love  interest  running 
through  its  pagea. 


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